


Of Horn And Halo

by dooped



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Astoria Greengrass's Blood Curse | Blood Malediction, Completed, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Family, Fluff, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Era, Mild Gore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Slytherins Being Slytherins, They basically don't even date, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 49,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dooped/pseuds/dooped
Summary: In a world ravaged by good and evil, those toeing the line find solace in nothing. Blood runs thicker than water, but is risking your life and livelihood for a war you never wanted a part in worth it? Is becoming a monster in the eyes of some, and a martyr in others glory? Is it truly evil to simply step back and do nothing?Half-Blood Prince - Deathly Hallows Era(Also Published on Wattpad)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue | 1991

### Prologue | 1991

Kings Cross station was a marvel. Maeve gawked at _Les plébéiens_ as they scurried by, not quite dissimilar to those in France, but there were enough subtle differences that it was all oddly off-kilter. The shouts in a language not foreign, but often kept between her and her father. The clothes were more sensible and subdued than in Paris.

Yes, London was strange.

"Maeve!" The young witch whirled around, her dark plait swinging back to sting her cheek as she searched for her father's disembodied voice. His large hand landed on her shoulder, jarring her from her wandering thoughts and growing discomfort with the unfamiliar surroundings. 

Her hand was in his and he was tugging her towards a wall of stone. She snapped her head back and forth, taking in one last look at the strange people before they slid through the wall and she was staring up at a great big train. 

The crowds were different than they had been outside, more familiar in the way all witches and wizards looked similar around the world with their wands and cloaks. The smell of coal-smoke and clamour of voices was assaulting her senses as her father tugged her into an alcove where they could stop a moment without standing in the way of other families. 

The face of Ragnor Selwyn could barely be described as anything other than granite, hard and cold as stone, but he was sporting a rare smile. 

" _Mon cœur,_ " he swept his daughter into a brief hug, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, "you will love Hogwarts as I did, I know it." 

Maeve managed to wrestle a weak smile to her lips, "I miss home, _papa_."

Ragnor tutted softly, and gave her cheek a gentle pinch with gloved fingers, "you are going to learn so much, make so many friends. Now, go on, _mon cœur._ "

Maeve reluctantly took hold of her large trunk and began dragging it behind her, sparing her father one final glance over her shoulder. He was already walking towards the barrier. 

The train gave a warning whistle and Maeve found herself swept up in a stream of students in a mix of Hogwarts robes and clothes of _Les plébéiens._

It was a struggle to find a train compartment not filled with students. When she finally managed to find one there were two people inside; one girl and one boy. The girl was thin and short with straight blonde hair and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. The boy had short, scruffy brown hair, narrowed dark eyes, and a pinched mouth that said something of his feelings about the blonde. 

Maeve steeled her nerves and slid open the door to the compartment, "may I join you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fully published on Wattpad as well under the same username (@dooped) if you're interested and it isn't fully up on here - I uh suck at uploading on here because it takes forever cause I'm just a tad inept. Also this is mostly a first draft. There was a few things I wanted to add and change but I never got to it and I'm not sure if I will, so there's bound to be a few errors and I'm sorry about that gang. But uh yeah enjoy my weirdass obsession with righting the Slytherin slander J.K. started >:(


	2. Part 1

###  Part 1

**The brewing of the storm**

_ "Happiness can be found,  _

_ even in the darkest of times,  _

_ if one only remembers to turn on the light." _

\- Albus Dumbledore

  
  



	3. Chapter 1 | 1996

### Chapter 1 | 1996

**_Hmm, a sharp mind. But you don't crave wisdom, no. Ah, I see. Better be..._ **

**_Slytherin!_ **

_The witch removed the sorting hat from her head and Maeve found herself ushered to the long table belonging to Slytherin House. She sat herself down beside a young blonde witch she’d sat with on the train who'd been sorted just minutes before. Daphne was her name._

_"Is it true you're a Selwyn?" She inquired, blue eyes wide._

_"That's impossible," a young boy scoffed across the table that she vaguely recognised He had short brown hair and elfish features that made him appear to be in a permanent state of impish glee, "the Selwyn's disappeared to France after You-Know-Who was killed by The Boy Who Lived."_

_Maeve felt her cheeks crisp with colour. She was no stranger to the gossip surrounding her family after the scandal of the First Wizarding War. Most families belonging to the Sacred Twenty-Eight were caught having direct ties to the dark lord and it was a scramble to condemn everyone the Ministry could get their hands on. Their family hadn't been the only one to flee the aftermath, but they were one of the few that had chosen to avoid returning to Britain in the years after._

_"I grew up in Paris, but my father wanted me to come to Hogwarts," Maeve said with a shrug, hoping they would drop it. She didn't have to worry, however, as Headmaster Dumbledore stood to address the students._

*******

The world had paled twelve shades over the summer. Or, at least that was how it'd felt to Maeve. The world had felt as though it'd been swallowing her whole inch by torturous inch for quite some time, though. 

Her head pressed against the cold window pane as the Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks. Her eyes were open but they saw nothing of her friends who sat silent in the compartment. All four of them had experienced similar things that summer, of that, Maeve was sure, but she was also sure they'd never speak of it.

Theo would joke, Daphne would scoff, Maeve would simply avoid the question. That was how it always was. 

"Have a good summer, Maeve?" Anthony braved the silence, his blue Ravenclaw tie marking him as an outsider as it had for years. That moment more pertinently than in a long time. It wasn't a simple house rivalry that was between them, it was family ties and blood and death and forbidden magic. 

Had she had a good summer? She almost laughed. Memories she'd been suppressing, tamping downs for weeks, flashed behind her eyes. 

_Her mother gripping her forearm painfully, eyes wild_.

" _Will you, Maeve Selwyn_ -"

"It was boring," Maeve shrugged, briefly letting her eyes wander to Anthony's square face, his worried expression, the dark smudges beneath his eyes, "and yours?" 

_Red light leaking from the wand, pale strands of light encircling her wrist._

"The same," his eyes darted to Theo who sat with his long legs to his chest, dark hair shielding his eyes, "spent most of it in the country. My father didn't even want me to come back this year."

His words hung heavily in the compartment, their true meaning obvious to the three Slytherins. But Daphne said nothing, she just pointedly turned the page of the book she'd been reading. Theo turned his head, letting his cheek rest against his knees as he peered out the window. 

Maeve felt ill when she took in how broken he looked, starkly young despite being the same age as her. She supposed they were all young. Too young to be dealing with the world they were living in. 

Theo's father had been arrested at the end of the previous term. He'd been present in the department of mysteries during the notorious battle between Potter and the Dark Lord's inner circle at the Ministry. The battle that had led to the wizarding world seeing the truth; _he_ was back. 

There hadn't been a single owl from Theo all summer. Maeve did not even know where he'd been living, let alone if he was alright. 

Maeve nodded in response to Anthony, knowing there was no real answer that would placate the Ravenclaw. Returning her gaze out the window, she let the same cool feeling wash over her once more. 

After the silence had gone unbroken for far too long, Maeve spoke, "I reckon _Les Plébéiens_ have noticed a change." 

"They have," Anthony said without missing a beat. Daphne scoffed from behind her book but didn't make any other attempt to join the conversation, "my father said the Muggle Prime Minister was even made aware of the state of things." 

_The state of things_. 

Theo slowly uncurled himself from where he'd been sitting and made for the door.

"And where are you off to, Theodore?" Daphne snapped at him, suddenly not interested in her book. Her blue eyes were narrowed, and she absently tugged at her blonde hair. 

"To change," Theo drawled sarcastically motioning to his black jumper and jeans. 

Daphne let him go after that, but the moment the door slid shut on the compartment she murmured sulkily, "he's acting strange." 

Maeve didn't bother mentioning that they all had been acting strange for months, if not for the past year. She knew that they'd all known. She knew they'd known the day the Dark Lord had returned, just like her. 

She remembered their pale faces as the clamour following the the death of Cedric, of Potter exclaiming that _He_ was back. 

Anthony's scoff brought Maeve out of her mind, away from the screams. She turned her gaze to him and raised a quizzical eyebrow. He didn't add anything more, simply muttered something about having a club meeting, before he too had left the compartment. 

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was relatively silent as Daphne and Maeve were perfectly happy to never address the tension that bared down on the Wizarding World. Theo joined them for the carriage ride to the castle, as well as a few other Slytherins they occasionally hung around. 

Blaise Zabini, an attractive and snide boy, engaged Theo in murmured conversation as Pansy Parkinson, Maeve's cousin, looked around wearing a worried expression. The carriage lurched as the Threstrals began to make their way down the path. 

"Oh, leave off, Pansy," Blaise quipped, "he's probably just riding with Crabbe and Goyle." 

"He told me he'd meet me at the carriages," Pansy grumbled, crossing her arms. 

Maeve tuned out the rest of their conversation and stared at the skeletal horse that pulled their carriage, its breath puffing out in pale clouds due to the uncharacteristically cold weather. it was almost as if the world was holding its breath, the weather strange and moody, the skies dark and brooding. 

There was a crack of lightning, but no rain fell. In the brief illumination Maeve swore she saw a dark figure in the clouds. A dementor, possibly. There had been whispers of their allegiance changing after the mass breakout of Azkaban. 

A shiver crawled down Maeve's spine that had nothing to do with the cool wind. The darkness brought on by the new year was so palpable she could taste it. 

_Will you, Maeve Selwyn, swear to never raise your wand against the Dark Lord?_

  
  



	4. Chapter 2 | 1996

### Chapter 2 | 1996

_Do you really think he's the Heir of Slytherin?" Maeve asked Daphne in a hushed voice as the two of them watched the white-blonde boy stand toe to toe with the Boy Who Lived on the duelling platform, their wands raised to their faces._

_"It makes sense," Daphne mused at an equally low volume, "he's Pureblood, and his family has been Slytherin for generations. They could be related to Salazar himself for all I know."_

_Then, there was a flurry of spells and movement. A snake flew from the end of Draco's wand, Lockhart threw a spell at it and in flew in the air, before falling to the wooden platform with an unsatisfying thud._

_Maeve jerked back from the snake that she swore was slithering straight for her and shoved a Hufflepuff boy in front of it, who immediately froze._

_When Potter started speaking to the snake she took another hasty step back, straight into Daphne, "maybe Saint Potter is the Heir of Slytherin."_

*******

Double potions with the Gryffindors was notorious for being a battleground, but aside from a few jabs it was relatively silent as the students rushed to brew a potion of Living Death in an attempt to win some _other_ potion for luck. 

" _Merde_!" Maeve exclaimed when the bean she was supposed to be chopping flew through the air for the dozenth time.She stole a cheeky glance at Hermione Granger's station, hoping to see the young witch utilizing a technique that garnered more fruitful results. Her peaking led to no avail as the Gryffindor know-it-all looked just as harried as Maeve felt. 

Theo glanced up from staring at the depths of his cauldron, "better close that mouth before the Gryffindors rat on you," he joked, taking a conspiratorial glance at the two Gryffindor girls who sat a few feet away from them. 

Maeve didn't bother responding to his poor attempt to break what had been icy silence. The usual ribbing of the high-and-mighty Gryffindors couldn't lighten the blackening mood that seemed to permeate through the stone floors of the dungeon.

Glancing at Granger once more, Maeve almost laughed at the positively spiteful look she shot at Saint Potter as he happily stirred his potion. Professor Slughorn squeezed his large frame between two benches to inspect Potter's potion, though it appeared he was inspecting Potter more than anything else if the hungry gleam in his eye was anything to go by. 

"Slughorn looks like he's undressing Potter with his eyes," Maeve mused, before making another pitiful attempt to chop at the ingredient she'd only just rescued from the dusty floor, "Ah, _putain_!" 

Daphne snorted as she jammed her knife repeatedly at the jumping object, "I never thought I'd miss Snape, but at least he didn't lick Potter's boots like everyone else." 

"Careful, Daphne," Blaise mused with a cruel smile, "it almost sounds like you're jealous." 

"As if I'd ever be jealous of some twat who hangs around Mudbloods and Blood Traitors," Daphne gave in and threw the Sopophorous Bean whole into the cauldron. A large poof of dark smoke shot upwards, before leaving Daphne with a fine coating of grey dust all over her robes and blonde hair. 

Maeve leaned back on her stool, her hands gripping the edge of the table, and she let her head fall towards her knees as she tried to hold in her laughter. The only sounds that snuck out where gasping breaths of silent laughter. A large hand came down on her shoulder and the warbling voice of Professor Slughorn boomed over their table, "Oh, dear! Did Miss Selwyn inhale the smoke?"

The chance was too choice to ignore. Maeve lifted her head and met Slughorn's beady eyes, nodding emphatically. 

Theo was appointed to escort her to the Hospital Wing and the two shuffled out of the classroom with smirks slowly dying on their lips. Only, when the two of them were alone in the gaping halls did the sobering effect take hold. The lightheartedness of school and lessons and new magic didn't breeze away the darkness anymore, not fully anyway. 

The darkness always found a way to creep back in. 

Maeve clenched her fist at the phantom burning. 

"Where were you this summer, Theo?" 

The question was innocent enough, but it held weight between the two Slytherins. Theo appraised Maeve, seeming to decide whether or not to tell the truth, "I was at Malfoy manor."

She didn't miss the hard bob of his Adam's apple, his dark eyes darting to glance out of the windows onto the grounds, the clench of his shoulders. 

"I wasn't aware you and Draco were so close," Maeve kept her tone even and disinterested, but she felt her throat tighten painfully. She'd heard rumours about the Malfoy's. There was a reason she avoided the white-blonde boy with the cruel smile. 

It was impossible to truly avoid the members of one's house, but it was a myth that all of the Slytherins got along. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were known not to be trifled with, as they brought unnecessary trouble and scrutiny to those who associated themselves with them. Crabbe and Goyle were harmless enough, with enough shared braincells to power a weak lightbulb, but the strong ties to the Dark Lord of their family did not go unnoticed. And Draco's father being so intrenched in the Ministry made most people take pause before they went near him. 

It was no secret many Slytherin families had unsavoury secrets that could be exploited by someone with such political power. Maeve's own family included. 

Not to mention the famous feud between Malfoy and Potter was not one most wanted to choose a side on. Maeve, along with most Slytherins, had no qualms admitting Potter was a self-righteous git, but he was also a symbol. Allying oneself against Potter was not wise. 

"We've been friends since we were in nappies," Theo said with raised eyebrows as they arrived at the Hospital Wing.

"Huh. I suppose I'd never really seen you hang around with him," Maeve brushed the subject aside, unwilling to dwell on the topic of the Malfoy family within the walls of Hogwarts. The portraits gossiped too much for their own good. 

"Oh dear," Madame Pomfrey took in Maeve's appearance; the light speckling of silver-grey dust that clung to her clothes, "what happened to you?"

"I er-" Maeve knew the break from potions wouldn't last long under the matrons sharp gaze, "I inhaled the smoke from the draft of living death." 

Madam Pomfrey, who had led Maeve to a cot, gave her a hard look, "you don't look to be all that out of sorts to me." 

"It was a precaution, really," Maeve offered with what she hoped was a charming grin. 

Madame Pomfrey pointed her wand at Maeve and she was suddenly cleaned of the dust that coated her robes. She thought of Daphne with mirth and the trouble her friend would go to getting the dust out of her hair; she'd never been all that successful with cleaning spells. 

"Eat this," the matron said, holding out a square of chocolate that she had apparently snatched from thin air, "and don't ever try to skipskive classes like this again," she said sternly. 

Maeve reached for the chocolate with her right hand, snatching it quickly when she caught the matron's eyes linger on her hand for a moment longer than necessary, " _Oui, Madame, je suis très désolé._ "

Theo and Maeve walked briskly through the halls back to the dungeons in a silence she was happy to entertain. 

Glancing down at her right hand, Maeve subconsciously traced the thin lines magically burned into the back of her hand. Then, she clasped her left hand over her right and tipped her chin up defiantly. 

_And do you, Maeve Selwyn, swear to never speak of what you overheard to anyone who would cause us harm?_

_I swear._

  
  



	5. Chapter 3 | 1996

###  Chapter 3 | 1996

_ Maeve watched the boy who'd sat himself next to her suspiciously. His floppy blonde hair, blue eyes, and dopey grin led to him resembling a golden retriever. His poorly tied blue necktie spoke of his house but his face resembled that of a Gryffindor.  _

_ "Hiya, my name's Anthony. Anthony, Goldstein."  _

_ Maeve narrowed her eyes at the young wizard and came the conclusion his open eagerness wasn't an act. She was unused to people not hiding their true intentions behind three-thousand faces.  _

_ "Maeve."  _

_ He didn't push further, simply took her hesitant hand and firmly shook it.  _

_ "I love transfiguration," his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes dipped to the desk, "I want to be an  _ Animagus _ like Professor McGonagall." _

_ "A what?" despite Maeve spending over a year with the English witches and wizards, some of the terms still failed to crossover in her mind.  _

_ "A wizard takes part in this month-long spell and at the end they can turn to an animal at will," Anothony spouted happily, not at all phased by her confusion.  _

_ "Oh," Maeve nodded, " _ une Animaguse _. If you ever find out how, I'd love to join."  _

_ "It's a deal."  _

*******

A loud clap of thunder caused Maeve to jump up in bed, her legs twisting in silken sheets. The second noise, shouting, caught her attention. She blinked the heavy sleep from her eyes and took in the darkness of her room, the sounds of heavy rain pattering against the thick window panes in the pitch dark night. 

She made a split second decision and, on soft feet, crept to the thick oak door that led to the hall. Slipping the door open on silent hinges, Maeve slid to her knees and crawled across the frozen marble floor to gaze between the banisters at the figures in the entryway. Her mother stood tall and proud as ever, a hand on her fathers arm. Her father was flushed red with anger, his shoulders hunched high. There was another figure, cloaked, but his face and the ends of his white hair was visible. 

Corban Yaxley. A horrible man. 

"Be wise, Ragnor," he was insisting, his hands held up placatingly, "I came to you in good faith, but if you will not lend your expertise you would be wise to keep your mouth closed." 

"My  _ daughter _ attends Hogwarts," her father boomed, "my  _ niece _ ! I will not  partake in suchpartake such a plot when the collateral damage is our children." 

Yaxley's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, "I told you to close your mouth, Ragnor, before it betrays you. Continue spouting such blasphemy and I may begin to question your faith in the Dark Lord."

Her parents were silent. 

"That's what I thought," Yaxley straightened and adjusted his cloak to cover his face , "your daughter will not be harmed, Ragnor. But it would be wise of you to-"

His sentence was cut short and for a moment, Maeve was confused, before she felt her heart drop as her parents' heads snapped up to see her between the banisters. 

"Maeve!" Her mother's eyes were fiery with anger, " _ qu'est que tu fais _ !?"

*******

There was a clap of thunder so loud it broke apart the dream,  _ no, _ memory. Maeve sprung to a seated position, her skin hot and too tight for comfort, and her heart thundering. It took a moment to calm  the pounding the her pounding in her chest heart before she understood the truth. 

She wasn't at home, she was at Hogwarts. The sheets were cotton, the drapes were green, the soft snores were of her dorm mates. 

The sky was the darkest grey that spoke of a morning to come filled with rainy skies and more thunder. It was as if the storm had followed her from her dream. 

After the painful dream, Maeve laid silently in bed, hoping for some semblance of sleep before she had to rise and go to class. 

It didn't come. 

Resigning herself to make use of the extra time, Maeve quickly dressed and snuck from the dark room into the dimly lit common room. The coals from the nearly dead dying fire were the only thing lending light to the dark dungeon, but after piling a few logs into the fireplace there was enough light for her to utilise. 

Maeve slid to the cold stone floor, resting the roll of parchment and potions textbook she'd taken from her room on the overstuffed emerald green sofa that sat before the fireplace. The cold seeped into her bones, but it was a familiar cold that reminded her of nights beside the fire in her old home in Paris. A home they'd left behind the year before in favour of the manor in the British countryside she'd been unaware of until she'd found herself on the steps with her father on her return from her fifth year at Hogwarts. 

The significance of the move hadn't been lost on her. 

Staring at the half-finished potions essay was unlikely to aid her in finishing it, but she couldn't quite will herself to put quill to parchment. She bit at her bottom lip until she tasted salty iron and ran her hands through her thick dark hair, willing it to stay out of her eyes. But she'd forgotten to plait it before she'd left the room and didn't want to return and risk waking her roommates. They'd probably assume she'd had a midnight  _ rendez-vous _ with another student. 

Maeve didn't think she'd be able to live through Millicent's ribbing and Daphne's sneer. 

" _ Putain _ ," Maeve cursed softly, rubbing at her tired eyes. 

It didn't help that the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts were after classes. The thought of picking up her old bat and flying after  _ Les Battres _ didn't hold the shine it used to. It felt stupid to spend time on something as normal as Quidditch when the Wizarding World was on the brink of war. 

Maeve almost laughed. She wasn't fool enough to think the war hadn't already begun. It had began the day the Dark Lord had risen again and called his followers to his side. 

The soft sound of footsteps broke Maeve from her swirling thoughts. She prepared herself for Snape to appear, assuming he was doing a morning round, but it wasn't Snape who appeared at the mouth of the common room. 

It was Malfoy. 

Maeve squinted at him to assure herself she wasn't hallucinating. It was him alright. Blonde hair and all, along with disheveled robes and dark circles under his eyes. 

It didn't take a genius to guess at what he'd been doing, but he looked quite downtrodden for a boy who'd clearly been sneaking away from a late night  _ rendez-vous _ of his own.

She didn't bother with a greeting, assuming he'd simply breeze by her. He did, of course, but she could feel the burn of his sharp, mistrusting eyes on her.

  
  



	6. Chapter 4 | 1996

###  Chapter 4 | 1996

_ Maeve put a hesitant hand on Anthony's shoulder, unsure how to comfort her friend. They'd only become friends that year during transfiguration and she felt like an intruder in his private moment of grief over his cousin.  _

_ "Penny," he murmured as if that'd wake her from the state of petrification.  _

_ The hospital wing was near-silent, but fuller than Maeve had ever seen it. It was disconcerting to see so many students from opposing houses stand together in silence around the beds of their peers.  _

_ "Professor Sprout says the Mandrakes are almost ready," Maeve murmured softly, "Penelope will be fine, Anthony." _

_ Anthony nodded, but he didn't seem to be listening. Maeve felt helpless, but just kept her hand on her friend's shoulder and hoped that the darkness that had descended over Hogwarts would lift as soon as possible. _

*******

Maeve almost snapped her broom in half when she landed. She hadn't thought it possible for a Hufflepuff to find their own behind, let alone a snitch. 

"Ten  _ bleeding _ points," she grumbled to Daphne, who wore an equally sour expression. 

"I think this is the worst we've ever played," Daphne responded in kind, shooting a pointed look at the second year who was practically shaking so hard his broom was at risk of flying out of his hand. 

The two witches strode through the field and Maeve rolled her neck tiredly, "I should've taken a page out of Malfoy's book and not bothered playing this year at all." 

Daphne snorted in agreement. 

The two changed quickly and stored their brooms before walking up the darkening trail towards the castle. Most students had already retreated to the Great Hall for supper, but the odd voice was carried through the late autumn breeze down the path.

"I hope there's roast beef," Daphne mused.

"I hope there's pudding," Maeve added.

The two shared grins and picked up the pace. It was nice to have a moment of relief in what had been a nothing but confusing year. 

There was roast beef and pudding at supper, along with rolls and roast vegetables and more gravy than one could possibly need. 

As Maeve trailed after Daphne towards the Slytherin dorms, she caught sight of Malfoy slipping down a side corridor. Arching an eyebrow, she skipped up to match her stride with Daphne and shot her friend a look, "interesting." 

"Interesting is right," Daphne said, slightly bewildered, "he's been sneaking off a lot lately, have you noticed? I wonder if he's sneaking off to a classroom to snog Pansy." 

Maeve laughed, "I think she'd be bragging endlessly if that was the truth. She's been enamoured with him since ... " she searched for an appropriate word, but fell short and threw her hands up, " _ je ne sais pas _ , since a very long time." 

"How articulate you are, Selwyn," Daphne said sarcastically. 

The two came to a stop in front of the stone wall that led to the common room. Maeve felt her mood slip. She glanced to Daphne, expectantly. 

"Oh come off it," Daphne rolled her eyes and addressed the wall, " _ mudblood _ ."

The passage opened. 

"It feels wrong," Maeve said with a shrug. 

"You're too sympathetic. It's just a word." 

Maeve bit her tongue to keep from saying,  _ so is 'Voldemort' _ . 

"It's just that Hogwarts is ... well  _ Hogwarts _ , and it's just strange that the password is  _ that _ ."

"For the millionth time Maeve. It isn't anyone specific who makes the password, it just shows up on the notice-board. It was probably Salazar himself who enchanted it. I'm sure Dumbledore has tried his damnedest to change the passwords." 

The two made a beeline for their dormitory, ignoring the students milling around the common room. When they arrived Maeve threw herself onto her bed and sighed heavily, "I'm so tired of the politics, Daphne." 

"It's just the way it is, Maeve." 

Anger flared inside the pit of her stomach for a moment, "I don't care. I honestly think this is all bloody ridiculous and it's exhausting. I just-" she splayed her hands, "so many preventable problems ... "

Daphne went quiet for a moment before speaking. Maeve couldn't see her face but the tone of her voice was enough, suspicious and chilly, "It's the way things are, Maeve." 

The repetition didn't go far in persuading Maeve to change her opinion. She hadn't lied; she was tired of it all. She understood how her family felt, how other families felt, but it didn't  _ matter _ . Their feelings didn't change how exhausting it was to simply  _ exist _ around them. 

"I know, I'm just ... " Maeve didn't finish. She didn't have to. 

Her disinterest in the blood politics that permeated their world evermore didn't change the fact that it was a topic of conversation becoming more and more relevant. Maeve knew what was coming, she could feel it, the rising hostility. There was a culling on its way, and she wasn't sure which side she wanted to be on.

Was there truly a winning side when one was destroying life and the other was being destroyed?

Maeve glanced at Daphne, saw the crease between her friend's eyebrows, and wondered if Daphne felt the same way. She didn't bother asking, she knew she'd get the same rehearsed answer.


	7. Chapter 5 | 1996

###  Chapter 5 | 1996

_ Maeve turned to face Daphne, the cold stone floor of the Great Hall seeping into her bones. There was a hush of nervous voices all around, and the jumpy atmosphere had admittedly gotten to her. _

_ "Do you think Sirius Black would come in here and kill all of us," Maeve whispered at a volume low enough only her friend could hear. As soon as she spoke she felt foolish, but the strangeness of being sent to sleep in the Great Hall so late at night got to her.  _

_ "Snape would kill him before he could even raise his wand," Daphne hissed back, eyes hard with forced confidence.  _

_ Though most would say Black was afraid of Dumbledore, Maeve couldn't help but agree. Snape was cruel in some ways, but he protected the Slytherins fiercely.  _

_ She let her eyes wander to the corner of the room where Dumbledore and the heads of the houses stood with their heads together, and something about the image calmed her nerves. Hogwarts was safe with so many powerful witches and wizards watching over them. _

*******

The snow crunched under their feet as Theo, Blaise, and Maeve made their way to Hogsmeade.

"I feel strangely objectified by him," Blaise mused, referring to Slughorn and his insistence on Blaise's presence at his fancy dinner parties and meetings, "there isn't much else I bring to the table other than my stunningly good looks."

"Face of a horse's ass and personality to match," Theo quipped back.

Blaise ignored him, but his almond-shaped eyes narrowed in on Maeve, "Maeve, you're a respectable enough girl." 

Maeve sighed and eyed Blaise warily. She'd never particularly trusted him. He was too pretty and too charming when he wanted to be, "I am, in fact, a girl Blaise." 

"Want to keep me company at Slughorn's ridiculous Christmas party?" 

" _ Mon Dieu _ ," Maeve scrunched up her face as if she'd bitten into a lemon, "I don't think he likes me all that much. Wouldn't score you many points to bring the witch who skives his class whenever the chance arises." 

"It'll be fun. Plus, Potter and Granger will be there, maybe we can find a way to hex them in the commotion." 

Hexing the Golden Trio had once been an endlessly fun game played by most of the Slytherins, but like Quidditch, it felt so mundane, so insignificant and petty. Though, the rivalry had always been petty, but that's what made it so fun.

"Why can't Pansy go with you?" Maeve suggested, "I can think of dozens of things I'd rather spend time on than watching Potter and Granger stumble around." 

"Pansy is leaving early for Christmas to France. I thought she told you."

Maeve squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and wracked her brain. Blaise was right, Pansy had mentioned it briefly at breakfast weeks ago, she just hadn't been listening. The mild guilt caused by thinking about how she'd been accidentally ignoring her cousin for days made Maeve blurt out, "fine. Whatever."

Theo threw his arms over his friends' shoulders, a mischievous smile glossing his lips, "now that that's sorted, let's get to Zonko's before all the good stuff is gone!" 

The three made their usual round through Hogsmeade, grins growing and pockets filling with sweets and trinkets, before they found themselves at a tall table in the packed Three Broomsticks. 

"Is that Weaselbee's sister sucking face in the corner there?" Theo mused, bringing his pint of butterbeer to his lips for a sip, "I think the muggles have a law against doing that in public." 

"I think the muggles finally did something right, I feel like I'm seeing something I shouldn't," Blaise mused, then his eyes sparked with an idea, "it's like being at a muggle zoo!"

"Jealous, Zabini?" Maeve teased, "wish you were the one locking lips with  _ La Femme De Feu _ ?" 

"About as much as I'd wish to snog you, Selwyn," he sneered with a tug at Maeve's plait.

She took the insult in stride, simply flicking her finger as if there was an invisible fly. The high-pitched pompous shriek that came from Blaise was a satisfying end to their banter, as he stormed out of the Three Broomsticks with butterbeer spilt down the front of him. 

Maeve gave the room a cursory glance before she turned over her wrist and crooked her finger in a come-hither motion, watching the upturned glass wobble back to its proper upright position.

"I wish I could perform wandless magic," Theo griped into his half-empty pint.

"It's a glorified party trick. I probably couldn't lift a Quaffle without getting a headache."

"I suppose that's true."

They were silent for a moment before Theo's cunning eyes gained a mysterious shine, "have you ever tried to summon your wand with windless magic? You'd be a killer in a duel if you could do that in a pinch." 

Maeve shook her head. She'd tried duelling club in second year for a day, but after nearly getting eaten by a misfired snake she'd avoided it. And duelling had never particularly intrigued her. She could perform the spells taught to her but she'd never fully grasped the strategy of it all. Like most subjects, Maeve understood it, but wasn't outstanding in any right. 

Sometimes Maeve fancied herself the anti-Granger. Where the frizzy-haired witch excelled in everything, she simply coasted through by the skin of her teeth. 

The rest of the time spent in the Three Broomsticks was filled with Theo egging her on as she glared at her wand he'd placed at the centre of the table. On the trudge back to the castle the two strode together in comfortable silence. Theo and Maeve had always had an understanding, a mutual dislike for talking about their secret feelings and making small talk. When Daphne wasn't around to spout conjecture and Anthony to correct her, the two generally just existed in silence. 

A sharp, muffled scream came from behind. The two whipped around but had crested a hill and could see nothing of Hogsmeade and the road behind other than the curling smoke from the tiny buildings. Theo and Maeve eyed each other warily, coming to a silent agreement. 

They weren't Gryffindors. They weren't about to tempt fate and seek out whatever screamed on the path to Hogsmeade at the end of a long day. 

The scream was cut off suddenly. 

"The Shrieking Shack?" Theo supplied. 

Maeve nodded emphatically and turned her back, the space between her shoulder blades tingling, "most likely. Let's hurry back."


	8. Chapter 6 | 1996

###  Chapter 6 | 1996

_ Maeve's stomach dropped as another student successfully banished the Boggart, turning a monstrous spider into a spectacle by affixing roller-skates to its many legs. The line shortened with every breath, and Maeve found herself in a state of nervous laughter more often than not.  _

_ When it became her turn to face the Boggart, another Slytherin shoved her from behind and she shot Zabini a murderous glance before facing the boggart. It was strange, static for a moment as it probed her mind for her worst fear.  _

_ For a brief moment, she wondered if the Dark Lord would appear in the middle of the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. She wasn't entirely sure what her worst fear was.  _

_ The Boggart manifested as a roiling pool of thick black ink, rolling across the wooden floor in a sentient manner. She felt her stomach dropping, but was unsure as to why. The dark pool was foreboding, but not much more.  _

_ Then, rearing into a large, snake-like shape, it struck towards her.  _

_ "Riddikulus!" she exclaimed, in time to get doused by a jet of water, instead.  _

_ Around her, fellow Slytherins and Gryffindors alike laughed. She blinked, and the water was no longer soaking her robes as another student was shoved before the creature. _

*******

The room of requirement had turned into a cozy nook to spend a Saturday afternoon. There was a great big fireplace crackling and a ring of overstuffed chairs just close enough to the flames to be gently warmed. Daphne, Theo, Anthony, and Maeve sat idly in the rough circle gazing into the flames. Anthony had apparently stumbled across the room the previous year. Since there weren't many places around the castle where the four of them could sit in actual solitude due to their different houses it was the perfect place to hide out in during the winter months when it was too bitterly cold in the courtyard by the lake. 

"Say what you want about Snape," Maeve mused absently picking at her fingernails, "he was an amazing potions professor. I feel like The Slug spends so much time listening to himself talk." 

Theo snickered, "I miss the beating he'd give Potter whenever he spoke out of turn to Weaselbee."

"Merlin, what a prat he is," Daphne let her arm rest over her eyes gracefully, "the sound the book made against his thick skull almost made it sound hollow." 

Anthony snorted, "I wonder if Potter complains about you Slytherins as much as you go on about him."

"He does," the three Slytherins agreed in harmony. 

"I agree though. That mess with the love potion was ridiculous. Granger with her ' _ s-spearmint toothpaste _ '," Daphne approximated Granger's articulate drawl, "who in their right mind is attracted to toothpaste?" 

"What did  _ you _ smell then?" Theo asked with a grin, comically inhaling deeply. 

Daphne lifted her arm and squinted for a moment, " _ boy _ ," she settled on decidedly, "and pine." 

Anthony guffawed, "what does  _ boy _ smell like Daphne?! Enlighten us,  _ please _ ." 

"I can't describe it," she threw her arms up in the air, "you don't understand because you're a boy." 

Theo and Anthony's gazes turned to Maeve at the same moment. She couldn't help but laugh, "she's right. But there's definitely a good and bad boy smell. For instance, you smell like  _ bad _ boy smell, Theo." 

"Hah! Lies!" Theo crossed his arms over his lithe frame, his smug smile not disappearing, "well I smelled flowers and ...  _ Merlin _ , hot chocolate - I think?" 

"That sounds like a very strange combination," Anthony interjected, "like saying the seaside and butterflies." 

Maeve chuckled lightly at the way Anthony had somehow managed to make the jumbled description sound poetic. The warmth of the fire and the lull of her bickering friends made her almost want to take a nap against the overstuffed chair. She let her eyes close for a moment, but all she saw behind her eyelids was red fire and storms. 

The only solace was the present. She peeled her eyes open just as Daphne asked, "what did you smell, Maeve?" 

She blinked slowly, trying to recall. It had been faint — as she'd been far away from the demonstration and not all that interested. It had been an odd combination that felt oddly personal. For a moment she considered lying, but as she took in her friends' expectant expressions she didn't see the point. 

"It was metallic, like how a bag of Sickles smells," she felt her cheeks warm, but whether it was the fire or mild embarrassment was up for debate, "and Cedar soap." 

Anthony blinked, before a wide grin spread across his face, "you seem pretty sure, Selwyn. Thinking of a special someone?" 

Maeve made a rude gesture, "just so you know, you smell of  _ bad _ boy smell. Just as bad as Theo." 

The boys cackled and Maeve found herself smiling along with their glee, whether it was at her dispense or not. 

After a while of lazing about, the four rose to go their separate ways. Anthony was mumbling something about the library and Theo looked ready to hide out in his dormitory to nap his way to dinner, dark circles under his eyes prominent. 

Anthony peeked out first, making sure the coast was clear before the four snuck out of the room. He'd made it clear when he'd shown them the room that it was a big secret and they had to be careful, lest the entire school found out about it. 

Daphne and Anthony turned left down the hall and Theo trailed beside Maeve as they went right towards the dungeons. They made it all of ten feet before turning and nearly slamming into an agitated-looking Draco Malfoy. 

So overcome by surprise, Maeve frowned and exclaimed, " _ Malfoy _ ?" 

He glared down at her, as if the two inches he had on her made him so much better, " _ Selwyn _ ," then, he nodded to Theo, "Nott."

Theo tugged Maeve out of the way, "sorry," she managed before practically running away with Theo on her arm. 

She glanced over her shoulder to see Malfoy halted in the middle of the hall, watching over his shoulder. Their eyes met and she felt something in her gut tug. 

_ Suspicion _ . 

"What the hell is  _ he _ up to?" she murmured to herself just as Theo let out a hacking laugh. 

"What the hell was that, Maeve?" he planted his feet to slow their walk and they broke away from each other. In a squeaky approximation of her voice, he mocked, " _ Malfoy _ ? Oh,  _ please _ , Malfoy! - Is he the  _ special someone _ Anthony was talking about?" 

Not being keen on Theo going on about her made-up relationship with Malfoy she said the one thing she knew would shut him up, "no, it's not that. It's just with all the rumours going around about him being a ... " she trailed off for a moment, giving Theo a look full of secret meaning, " ... he'd know better than to skulk around by himself looking shifty. I guess you of all people would know, spending the summer at the Manor."

Theo's lips turned down and whitened. 

Maeve felt guilty.

  
  



	9. Chapter 7 | 1996

###  Chapter 7 | 1996

_ Anthony and Maeve shared a look of both excitement and nervousness. The two were shaking from the cold after running all the way from the greenhouses during the lightning storm that had descended with no warning.  _

_ "I can't believe it's finally time," Anthony's eyes were wide and gleaming. He handed Maeve one of the two bottles of blood-red potion and they uncorked them in unison. The sound echoed in the dusty long-abandoned classroom.  _

_ "I can't believe you found all this in the library," Maeve said with a disgruntled shake of her head, "uh — cheers, I suppose." _

_ "Cheers."  _

_ Maeve placed her wand-tip to her heart, " _ Amato Animo Animato Animagus _." _

_ Anthony repeated her actions a moment after her, they shared one final nervous look, and drank the potions. _

*******

Maeve watched Luna Lovegood dance with a lack of any inhibition as the students and odd teacher mingled at Slughorn's Christmas party. She looked somewhat like a sparkling, silver Christmas ornament herself. 

Accepting a glass of giggle water from Blaise, she tilted her head to the side as she watched Luna drift away from dancing to engaging an uncomfortable-looking boy in a one-sided conversation. Blaise snorted, "Loony looks ridiculous." 

She did look a tad ridiculous, but something about her babbling away to the uncomfortable Gryffindor boy brought a smirk to Maeve's lips, "she's interesting, to say the least." 

" _ Loony _ ," he repeated, and took a bite of some little desert on a plate he'd brought. 

Maeve bit at the silver ring on her middle finger that attached at a point to the emerald green sleeve of the simple dress she'd donned for Blaise's ridiculous party. She watched Harry Potter duck behind the golden drapes that hung against the wall and took stock of the other slim figure she assumed to be Granger. 

"I wonder if Potter is snogging Granger behind those hangings," she elbowed Blaise and sent him a conspiratorial grin, "or do you think she's waiting out for Weasel?" 

Blaise pretended to gag, "the thought of any of those three procreating is truly sickening, Selwyn. You have a dark, dark mind."

The uncomfortable Gryffindor boy Luna had cornered broke free and seemed to be looking around. Dejected, he came to stand a few meters away from the two Slytherins. He tapped the shoulder of a vaguely familiar boy who was carrying a tray of giggle water and asked, "Longbottom? Have you seen Granger?" 

Maeve blinked hard. She hadn't thought about Longbottom in quite a while. He'd gotten quite tall. 

Longbottom shook his head and twisted away from his fellow Gryffindor. 

" _ Mate _ ," Blaise called to the lost Gryffindor, who perked up and met Blaise's gaze, "I think your girlfriend is over there." 

He grinned at Blaise, "cheers mate," and disappeared in the direction Blaise had motioned to with his glass. 

"What are you doing?" Maeve asked suspiciously. 

"Stirring the pot," Blaise said with a grin and playfully nudged Maeve in the ribs with his elbow. 

The two watched Granger escape the golden drapes just as her pursuer arrived. It was like watching a game of cat and mouse. 

"I couldn't ask you to a party without entertainment, could I?" Blaise said with a smug smile. 

"Watching him pose with students is entertainment enough," Maeve noted as they watched The Slug himself smile painfully with an arm around the She Weasel. 

"That reminds me. I should go pose for my portrait. Won't be a minute." 

With that, Blaise disappeared in the crowd and Maeve blew out a bored sigh. Everyone around her looked at least somewhat happy to be there. Well, excluding Snape when she'd caught sight of him briefly. In her eyes, it was all pomp with an unknown motive. It set Maeve's teeth on edge. 

Slughorn's habit of collecting people could be as simple as self-indulgent ego-boosting, but it was difficult to not search for a sinister motive. The one truth her parents had always made her remember was that, no matter how innocent something seemed, there was always a deeper reason behind it. 

One just had to be cunning enough to spot it. 

There was a commotion at the door, but it took Maeve a moment to tear her eyes away from the golden curtains where she'd been absently staring. Filch was holding none other than Draco Malfoy by the back of his jacket as he made a ruckus. 

Malfoy managed to look both angry and offended at the same time. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth turned down. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, too, that Maeve had noticed more and more. She was beginning to think Malfoy wasn't disappearing for late-night  _ rendez-vous _ , but something more sinister. 

There were so many voices she couldn't quite hear what was being said, but it was pretty clear that Filch had caught the young wizard skulking through the halls and, like a prized trophy had, brought him to Slughorn. 

When Snape swept into view and practically dragged Draco from the room, it wasn't much of a surprise. The head of Slytherin house had always held a particular shining to the boy with the white-blonde hair. Maeve supposed he had connections to the long line of Slytherins one way or another. 

The Boy Who Lived trying to sneak through a crowd to follow Snape and Malfoy  _ was _ a surprise, and quite comical. He was Harry Potter. Who stood out more in a crowd than Harry bloody Potter?

Well, aside from Lovegood with her glittering monstrosity of a dress. 

Potter and Malfoy had been caught in a game of back and forth for years, but Maeve couldn't help but wonder if Saint Potter had noticed Malfoy being stranger than normal as well. 

"Curiouser and curiouser," Maeve mused softly to herself. 

"Alice In Wonderland," a dreamy voice said from beside her. 

Maeve jumped and turned to see Lovegood's smiling face, "indeed it is."

  
  



	10. Chapter 8 | 1996

###  Chapter 8 | 1996

_ "You have barely completed  _ three _ years of schooling," Snape hissed, his already pinched face dark with anger, "you are not of age. Casting such a spell is far beyond the bounds of sanity!"  _

_ "That will be  _ all _ , Severus," Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively, face impassive. His intelligent eyes followed Snape's form as the head of Slytherin house stormed from the headmaster's office. Then, a smile appeared on his wizened face, "I must say, I am impressed."  _

_ Maeve and Anthony shared equally terrified expressions as they shared a glance. Neither elected to respond to the headmaster as he stroked his beard absently.  _

_ "Severus would have you both punished, of course," he murmured absently, "but truly, such a feat demands  _ congratulations _. How long did it take?" _

_ "T-two months, sir," Anthony stuttered out, his ears pink and his hands clutching at his trousers.  _

_ "How about this," Dumbledore spread his hands, "we forget about this little misstep-" the two stared up at him with eyes like saucers, "-as long as you file for registry with the ministry once you come of age."  _

_ Maeve couldn't believe their luck. She had been sure the old wizard had been about to expel them for so brazenly breaking the rules. Anthony and her both nodded empathically, lost for words. _

_ "Now," Dumbledore offered them a kind smile, "you may return to your dormitories. Take a sherbet lemon on your way out. They're  _ quite _ delicious." _

*******

Maeve hadn't seen a hair of her mother since she'd stepped foot into their country manor a few days previous. Her father had received her at King's Cross and the two had apparated home, before he'd been called to the ministry to investigate a crisis involving _ Les Plébéiens  _ coming across an enchanted object he had to identify. 

The manor had been decorated for Christmas beautifully, no doubt by the house-elves, but it still felt cold in the absence of her family. Not for the first time, Maeve wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister to share her time with. 

She wondered if they'd share her distaste for the state of the Wizarding World or, if they'd join a side, wand at the ready, like she never could. 

It was the dead of night, but the windy snowstorm had kept her wide awake. She slumped back in the overstuffed armchair facing the fireplace at the end of her large room, letting her head thump against the green upholstery. 

Her mind kept replaying the last time she'd been at home. 

Midnight, and the night before she'd left for Hogwarts. 

_ "This is for your own safety as well as ours," her mother hissed in her ear softly, before grasping her forearm firmly _ . 

Maeve reached her arm forward, splaying her fingers as far apart as they'd go. The faint red lines crisscrossing the back of her hand going white. She clenched her teeth in concentration as she glared at the burning hot coals at the centre of the flames. 

Sweat beaded on her forehead as the ember she focused on slowly rose. The effort of maintaining the magic without a wand to conduct the power caused her to physically flinch back when the tension became too much. 

She hadn't forgotten what Theo had mentioned to her. It would be a great asset to be able to fend for herself without a wand in the state of things. 

After a few shuddering breaths to steady herself, Maeve turned her head to look at the cherrywood desk that was strewn with parchment and books along with her wand sitting near the edge. 

She held out her hand, and for one glorious moment, it shot forward. It landed on the ground, narrowly missing the hearth. Her lips turned firmly down. 

When her hand closed around her wand she heard the distinct sound of the front door slamming shut. After her previous experience listening in on things she didn't want to hear in the first place, Maeve wasn't exactly brimming with excitement at the thought of abandoning her safe room. 

But the sounds of more than two pairs of footsteps were what caused her trepidation. 

With every step she took, her stomach seemed to drop further. The door opened silently as she crept across the cold floor with quiet, bare feet. Instead of leaning close to see between the banisters, she continued to creep along the floor until she had a direct line of sight to the sitting area directly to the side of the entryway where the guests stood. 

Shrouded in shadows, Maeve was sure there was no way they'd be able to detect her presence unless by magic. 

Narcissa Malfoy, immediately recognizable by her pure blonde and black hair, along with her deranged sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. The two women stood in black robes similar to the ones she'd seen Yaxley in months before, holding decanters of amber liquid. 

Facing the two witches was none other than her mother, Angelica Selwyn. She looked elegant as ever with her slick dark hair and sharp features, despite wearing the same shapeless robes as her companions. Her mother wore a grim smile mirrored in the other witches, but as she spoke Maeve found herself unable to catch the words. 

Maeve recognized the wry expression on her mother's face, and judging by Bellatrix's much louder outburst of, "it is an honour to serve  _ Him _ . There is no such thing as inconvenience," she had said something opposing the dishevelled witch.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Maeve took a step back. She swallowed at the lump in her throat and turned her back on the scene. Her hands fisted in her thin nightdress and she forced her feet to walk away. 

Only when she closed the door to her bedroom did she allow her body to slump against the door. She slid to a heap on the floor and willed tears to come, to prove that her mind wasn't broken, to prove she felt anything. 

No tears came. 

There was an ever-growing hole in her chest as more and more of her life fell to the darkness, like a blot of ink eating up everything in its patch on parchment. Her family was tainted and her home was no longer her home. All she had were tiny pieces of herself she seemed to lose before she found them.


	11. Chapter 9 | 1997

###  Chapter 9 | 1997

_ Maeve watched Professor Moody sweep the spider off of his desk, his words ringing in her ears. _

Avada Kedavra _. _

_ Before she knew it, the class was dismissed and she was walking alongside Daphne and Theo silently. She knew they were all thinking it; their parents had used those spells.  _

Les Malédictions Impardonnables _ was the title they'd had in her mind until that class — just simple words. Defence Against the Dark Arts with Alastor Moody had made the abstract concept of the three horrible curses very real. Their destruction was obvious. The thought of killing with the flick of a wand, torture with a thought, and mind control with one incantation was real and awful.  _

Unforgivable.

*******

Daphne exited the bathroom stall looking uncharacteristically green. Maeve didn't comment. She knew Daphne would just snap at her as the young witch had been more and more often. 

They continued through the halls, ignoring the straggle of students who lingered around with the absence of classes leaving them aimless. It was a strange conundrum; there being nothing to do at Hogwarts, but the weekends were a time for blissful nothingness in every shape of the word. 

Some went to Hogsmeade, some went to the library, some hung around their common rooms, but Maeve and her friends had always put in a concerted effort to find a new and interesting way to do nothing every weekend. Well, aside from Anthony. He suffered from an acute case of Know-It-All-Itis that required extended hours at the library and holed up in his room writing potions essays. 

It was a pleasant surprise to find him laying on the cold ground along with Theo when Maeve and Daphne found them by the Black Lake. The weather was bitter cold, despite spring blossoming around them. 

Maeve fell to her knees on the hard ground and let herself lean back on her elbows. She let her eyes dance around the courtyard for a moment, before they fell on her cousin. Pansy was sitting against a tree trunk, looking bored, as Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be arguing next to her. 

"They have a striking resemblance to Tweedledum and Tweedledee," Maeve said to herself. 

"What's a Tweedledee?" Theo snorted, "sounds like an illness. Like, you eat too much pudding and develop a Tweedledee." 

Anthony just laughed. 

"I wonder where Draco is," Daphne mused, "normally Crabbe and Goyle can't be found without him ordering them about."

"Why do you care, Daphne?" Theo raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"Watching Potter and his friends is only half the entertainment," Daphne said easily, "it's no fun when Draco isn't right there antagonizing him." 

Maeve's thoughts went to the rumours that had been circling about Draco for months. Some said he was a Death Eater, some said he was more than that, some said that he was an assassin sent to kill Potter. The last was by far the moth ridiculous. Draco Malfoy had had years to kill Harry Potter, there was no reason to bother after six years. 

She wondered if Draco even had the capacity to kill someone. She knew she didn't. The thought of pointing her wand at somebody, saying the words, and watching the light leave someone's eyes at her hands made her whole body shiver. 

"I'm going to leave if all you talk about is how much you supposedly hate Potter," Anthony yawned, "I spent half the night working on a transfiguration assessment and I'd be happy to retire to the Ravenclaw dormitories." 

"All I'm hearing is that you somehow finished the homework," Theo jostled Anthony with a wicked grin, "willing to share, Goldstein?" 

"You can finish the assessment for yourself!" Anthony batted Theo's hands away, "I'll look it over for you when you're  _ finished _ but that's it." 

"Funny you should say that," Theo pulled a scroll from his rucksack, "I just so happened to bring my assessment." 

Maeve turned her gaze away from her friends as they continued to bicker. She met eyes with Pansy, took in her cousin's distraught face and sighed. She stood and brushed the dry bits of grass off of her jumper, "back in a moment." 

Pansy stood and met Maeve halfway between their two groups, "I think Draco's in trouble." 

Maeve almost rolled her eyes, "I thought something much worse happened. You looked like you were about to cry!" 

"I don't cry, Maeve," Pansy snapped, "but that isn't the point. He looks ill. He's been avoiding us. He's irritable-"

"When have you known Malfoy to  _ not _ be irritable?" 

"Stop it, Maeve! I know you hate him and everyone else, but he's my friend. The boys are no help and I just wanted to talk about it. I'm sorry I bothered you," Pansy turned to storm off.

Maeve instantly felt guilty. She grabbed at her cousin's arm and followed after her as Pansy strode past her friends towards the castle, "I didn't - I'm sorry Pansy. I shouldn't have brushed you off like that."

Pansy kept up her pace, forcing Maeve to nearly run to keep up. It was a moment before she finally spoke, "it's fine. I'm just tired of how everyone is acting." 

Finally, Pansy stopped at one of the archways that opened to one of the open-air halls. She rubbed at her shoulders and blinked rapidly. She looked young in that moment. She looked frail. She looked like a skinny sixteen-year-old witch who had no idea what the world looked like anymore. 

"The world's holding its breath," Maeve nodded. 

Pansy tossed a quick glance around, before murmuring, "Draco is a Death Eater." 

So the rumours were true. Maeve felt disappointed. 

"Good for him."

Maeve was sure her disgust was obvious enough, but she wasn't sure if there was a proper answer to such a declaration. 

Pansy didn't seem to be listening. She just continued to speak as if the floodgates had opened, "he seemed smug about it at the beginning of the year. But I think it's really gotten to him. He isn't meant to - I don't know. It's just all so wrong. We're not even of age yet and it feels like everything is going so fast. I know you hate our world, but for some, it isn't so easy to stand between and do nothing."

Maeve's fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms, "what would you have me do, Pansy?"

"I don't know. I just - I just feel like it's hard to do anything anymore." 

With her cousin's non-answer ringing in her ears, Maeve nodded curtly and turned to leave. She didn't bother returning to the lake to sit with her friends and pretend to be perfectly happy to laze about. She let her feet carry her through the halls, turning away whenever she came across students.

She found herself at the blank wall that led to the room of requirement. The door didn't appear. She didn't  _ require _ anything. 

That was just it. Maeve didn't want to do anything, didn't want to feel anything. She just wanted the crashing storm of the world around her to calm. 

There was an itch between her shoulder blades. Instinctively, she turned her head to the side. There, stood Draco Malfoy.

  
  



	12. Chapter 10 | 1997

###  Chapter 10 | 1997

_ "Between Saint Potter and Cedric, I'd much rather have the Hufflepuff win," Theo said, his words followed by an exaggerated sigh, "bloody hell, this is taking way too long." _

_ It had. The other two champions had been removed from the maze for more than thirty minutes already. The Beauxbatons students had let out rather impressive strings of French curses that had been impossible to ignore. _

_ Daphne grunted in agreement, her eyes trained on her nails as she picked at a hangnail, "I don't even care who wins anymore I just want to go work on my potions essay. It's due tomorrow." _

_ "You should've listened to Anthony," Maeve teased with a grin, gesturing her chin at their Ravenclaw companion who was sat with a book in his lap and parchment spread across it, "you could have brought your essay with you, but I suppose cunning doesn't make up for that Ravenclaw brand of  _ intelligence _." _

_ Anthony didn't bother to look up as he spoke, "you're just jealous of how smart I am." _

_ Theo scoffed. Pansy snorted. Maeve laughed. Anthony was entirely correct, but they would never admit it; Slytherin pride forbade it. _

_ Suddenly, the music started up again. The four stood up and turned their gaze to the entrance of the maze, trying to see over the flurry of bodies who the winner was.  _

_ Then the screams started and the music died. _

_ "Oh," Maeve choked out the words, " _ fuck _." _

*******

"I can't believe I didn't pass," Theo whined, "it was one foot. One."

"In my experience feet are generally required," Anthony snorted. 

Theo just rapped him on the back of the head. 

"Well, I can't believe Daphne didn't come," Maeve said with a shake of her head, "she said she was feeling poorly but it's an apparition test. It took all of five minutes." 

"Daphne will be Daphne," Theo said as if he'd found the great answer to an unsolvable puzzle. 

Anthony shrugged, "Daphne feels unwell whenever she has divination. She was probably just nervous and decided she'd rather wait." 

"Maybe. Either way, I should probably go check on her," Maeve waved to the boys and continued forward towards the dungeons. 

The halls were relatively empty, as quite a few students were still at the trials in Hogsmeade and a few of the students in younger years had gone to sneak a peek. When she passed a portrait of a fancily dressed woman with a pinched face she wasn't all that surprised when she spoke, "comb your hair. You look like you've rolled out of a barn." 

Maeve knew her hair had a habit of falling all over the place whenever she apparated so she reached up to feel the damage. It felt as though half of her braid had fallen out so she slowed her steps as she tugged at the tie she'd used to secure it that morning. 

She was running her hands through her hair in an attempt to smooth it when something grabbed at the back of her sweater and she found herself dragged into an empty alcove. Her spine smarted as it pressed against stone. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, then struggled against the hands pressing her shoulders against the wall, " _ arrête! Arrête, qu'est _ \- Malfoy?!"

His eyes were wild as he glared down at her, the dark circles under them only adding to the effect. 

"Why are you following me, Selwyn? What do you know?" He snarled, shaking her slightly. 

"What - What the bloody hell are you  _ talking _ about?" Maeve forced her arms up and shoved Draco with all her might. He lost his grasp on her and stepped back twice to regain his footing. Rage burned at the edges of her senses as she stalked towards him, "I don't care what kind of  _ Magie Noire _ you're wrapped up in Malfoy, or if you're one of  _ Les Partisans De La Mort _ . Just stay away from me." 

Draco inched closer and closer, his eyes narrowing, until they stood toe to toe. He sneered down at her as if he could intimidate her into confessing to something she hadn't done, "I've seen you following me, I've seen you around the room — "

"Selwyn, Malfoy," the drawl of Professor Snape's voice was tinged with anger, "fraternizing in the halls is prohibited. Five points from Slytherin."

Maeve hurriedly stepped away from Draco, nearly slamming into the wall, "I'm sorry, what?" 

It wouldn't have been the first time Maeve had mistakenly mistranslated English in the halls of Hogwarts but she was shocked either way. 

"I trust you heard me correctly. Now, be on your way before I assign you detention," Snape said with eyes boring into Maeve. 

Professor Snape was not one she intended on crossing, misunderstanding or not. She scurried away and kept her head down until she reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. 

" _ Parseltongue _ ."

The events of the day tumbled onto Maeve's shoulders as she slumped into one of the armchairs tucked in the corner of the common room. She hugged her knees to her chest and let her eyes stare out the window into the nothingness of the sky. 

Pansy's words played over in her head from a few days previous.

_ For some, it isn't so easy to stand between and do nothing. _

Maeve subconsciously covered her right hand with her left.

_ And do you swear to never raise your wand against a follower of the Dark Lord? _

Pansy was wrong. Maeve  _ had _ picked a side, but it hadn't been her choice at all. All she'd had to do was something she wasn't supposed to. 

She tore her gaze from the window and stood, forcing her turbulent thoughts down. She made it all of three metres towards the girls' dormitories before she heard the footsteps and felt the eyes on her back.

Malfoy stood at the mouth of the common room. 

Maeve didn't care about the six or so students scattered about the common room. She met his eyes in a dark glare and made a rude gesture in his direction, before pointedly looking away.


	13. Chapter 11 | 1997

### Chapter 11 | 1997

_Maeve left her trunk in the foyer, letting her gaze wander over the unfamiliar surroundings. Their residence in Paris had been far more cramped. In terms of Paris, their home on the top floor in the centre of the city had been rather extravagant. But the large country manor was sprawling with the grounds to match._

_The year had started so strangely. The Death Eater demonstration at the World Cup had set the tone for the year. When it had ended with the death of a student Maeve hadn't even personally known, and yet it had hit her harder than she ever could have expected._

_Now she was thrown from Paris to somewhere new when her thoughts were so very chaotic._

_"Welcome home," her father murmured to her mother, wrapping an arm around her thin waist. The two shared a nostalgic smile that made Maeve feel as though she was intruding upon a private moment._

_"Since when did we even have property in Britain?" Maeve's voice came out sulky. She had spent the entire year at Hogwarts reminding herself that she'd return to French-speaking_ Plébéiens _and_ pâtisseries _on every street serving hot chocolate so thick one could dip a croissant in it._

_"This is our home before you, Maeve," Ragnor mused, taking in the slightly dusty surroundings._

_"And now it's our home again," Angelica said in a tone that said she wouldn't speak any more on the subject._

_Maeve nodded, but she was already homesick of a home that wasn't even hers anymore._

*******

Maeve had been avoiding Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco - more so than usual — for more than a month when Daphne finally mentioned it. 

"Why have you been all mopey and lonely lately?" 

Maeve pulled her jumper on and tossed her leather gloves into her cupboard where her Quidditch equipment belonged, electing to come back for it sometime later when she wasn't in such a foul mood. 

"We just lost the last game of the season and you want to talk about how I've been reclusive?" Maeve frowned at her friend. It was out of sorts for Daphne to bring such matters up in the first place. 

"You didn't have to remind me," Daphne let her head fall backwards and she let out an irritated noise, "gods damned Gryffindors."

The rest of the trip up to the Great Hall for supper was filled with mutual complaints about the Gryffindor team and losing the game. 

The two slid into seats beside a few of the younger Slytherins as most of the seats were full. 

"Potter wasn't even there," Daphne muttered for the fourth time, "the She Weasel has no business actually having talent." 

Maeve laughed. They spent the rest of supper eating roast beef, potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted vegetables with only the odd snipe at the opposing Quidditch team to pass the time. 

"Ugh, you may have to roll me the rest of the way to the dorm," Daphne joked as she patted her stomach. A group of grinning Gryffindors rushed past and her mouth turned further down, "apparently they're planning an enormous party in the Gryffindor common room. I wish I could sneak in and ruin it just a little bit."

Maeve slung her arm over Daphne's shoulders, "there's always next year."

Daphne sighed, "I suppose. I hate losing. I like winning."

Maeve just laughed and the two made their way to their dormitory in relative silence. They spent some time working on potions homework together before Maeve was so tired she nearly fell into a heap on her bed. 

*******

Maeve kept her chin held high as her mother pulled her down the hall by her elbow. The soft male voices floating from the open door of the study made her stomach drop, but she refused to show weakness. She'd been waiting for the shoe to drop since she'd been frozen in place by Corban Yaxley's haughty gaze.

Her mother had levelled her daughter with a glare that spoke of the gravity of what she'd overheard before she'd banished Maeve to return to the bedroom. 

The days following the incident had been tense, but on the eve before returning to Hogwarts, Maeve knew if something was going to happen it would before she left for school. 

Ragnor Selwyn was not a man known to be emotional. He stood like a statue behind his great spruce desk, arms crossed over his large chest, and his face impassive. 

Yaxley turned as the two women arrived, his thin ponytail swishing. A cruel smile twisted his features, "ah, young Maeve. Hello again." 

Maeve fought for her voice to be even, but it came out breathy and high-pitched, " _Monsieur_." 

Clapping gloved hands together, Yaxley gave Maeve and Angelica an expectant look, "are we ready, then?" 

"What is it we're doing?" Maeve fought down her fear. Images flashed in her hindbrain like Yaxley branding a dark mark into her arm, torturing her, killing her. She met her father's gaze and found solace in his calm. She knew he'd never allow such things. He loved her.

"Just a precaution. I assure you," Yaxley made a show of tugging at his starchy cuffs. 

"Take my arm, child," Angelica ordered, her eyes hard. Her hand had an almost imperceptible tremor, but Maeve had learned long ago how to read her mother. 

She clasped her mother's arm, her palm sweaty against the lace of Angelica's sleeve. Her stomach felt as though it was leaking through her feet as the gravity of the situation blew over her. 

Yaxley pointed his wand at their clasped hands, red light shone at the tip of his wand, and a thin strand of pale silver edged out like a serpent slithering towards prey. Angelica's hand tightened painfully on Maeve's forearm and her eyes snapped up to meet her mother's wild eyes, "Will you, Maeve Selwyn, swear to never raise your wand against the Dark Lord?"

Her neck snapped to the side and she looked for confirmation in her father's eyes. He tipped his chin down in a grim nod. She nearly choked on the words, "I - I swear." 

"And do you swear to never raise your wand against a follower of the Dark Lord?"

The silver snake of magic encircled their joined hands, an unpleasant burning sensation growing hotter by the moment. Again, the words fought to stay in her throat, but she forced them out more forcefully, "I swear." 

"And do you, Maeve Selwyn, swear to never speak of what you overheard to anyone who would cause us harm?" 

"I swear."

The light faded, but thin lines where the silver snake had coiled were seared into the flesh of her hand. She withdrew her hand with concerted effort. She didn't bother looking for affirmation from the others in the room; she knew her purpose had been fulfilled, so she turned and left the study. 

Maeve's shoulders felt heavier than they ever had. 

*******

Maeve's eyes shot open, but she didn't jerk as she had when she'd awoken from her recurring nightmares. She felt dull and empty after reliving the night of The Vow. 

The dormitories were dark, but there was a semblance of light from the grading early morning sky that allowed her to see her hand when she brought it up. The lines were still there, reminding her of the choice that had been made for her that night. 

She curled her hand into a fist and clenched her eyes shut, trying for the millionth time to just let the emotion wash over her, to cry. Nothing came, no tears, no wracking sobs, no pain. 

There was a part of her, small and cruel, that was happy she didn't have to make a choice. The part was happy to follow the path that had been set out for her since the day she was born into a family of pure-blooded beings. 

But there was no glory in being what was expected of you, no reward for taking the easy route. And a big part of her, the part that was Slytherin through and through, wanted to be something great.

  
  



	14. Chapter 12 | 1997

##  Chapter 12 | 1997

_ Daphne gave Maeve a pleading look, "please, Maeve. It'll be fun!" _

_ Maeve looked up from the three textbooks she had spread over the table in the back of the library, "I need to pass my N.E.W.T's, Daphne," she shook her head and rubbed at her throbbing temples, "Umbridge is a useless teacher and I need to pass the exam for Defence Against the Dark Arts with an  _ Exceeds Expectations. _ "  _

_ "We have ages until the exam!" _

_ Maeve turned to Anthony, a pleading look in her eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, "we're studying, Daphne. You're not going to change her mind about joining the Inquisitorial Squad," then, after a moment, he added, "even if she wants to I won't let her. She has no idea what she's doing. If she ever were to consider being an  _ Auror _ she should probably study day  _ and _ night." _

_ Maeve whacked him on the arm with a bit of rolled-up parchment and hissed an aggressive, " _ shut up _!" _

_ Daphne wrinkled her nose, "an  _ Auror _? Maeve,  _ please _ , you could be so much more."  _

_ Her friend's words made her wince. There was a reason she'd never told Professor Snape during career consultation. There was a reason Anthony had been the only one she'd ever admitted her dream to.  _

_ Maeve knew. She knew that the aspiration made no sense. She knew that she had no chances. She knew that she wasn't smart enough. _

_ But that didn't stop her stubborn Slytherin will. She wanted to be the best she could possibly be.  _ The best of the best _. _

*******

"I feel like an idiot," Maeve groaned, rubbing at her temples as she tried to make sense of the description of the Patronus Charm and the complicated process to cast a corporeal Patronus. 

"It's not as hard as it sounds," Anthony assured her, giving her an awkward pat on her shoulder, "I can show you if you'd like?"

Maeve stared at him, "when did you learn how to cast a Patronus Charm? We haven't even done it in class yet!"

Anthony's ears turned pink, but he was saved from answering when Daphne threw herself to one of the empty chairs. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were shining, "did you hear?" 

"Hear what?" Anthony asked, taking in Daphne's dishevelled appearance, "did you run here?" 

Daphne began speaking at a rapid speed, "I was told by Blaise who was told by Cormac who was told by Seamus who Weasley accidentally let it slip that-" 

"Stop it," Anthony waved his hands in front of his head, "just get to the point."

"I almost was," Daphne muttered frostily, "if you'd have just let me finish. Either way, the point is, Weasley let it slip that Harry and Draco had an actual duel in the bathrooms not too long ago."

"So?" Anthony snorted, "when have they not been fighting?" 

"Apparently Harry almost killed him."

"This was today?" Maeve's eyebrows climbed in surprise.

"Not quite sure when. A few days ago at least. It took awhile for the news to travel to us from the Gryffindors. You know how tight-lipped they are," Daphne just shook her head, "I just can't believe it. I didn't know Potter had it in him."

Anthony shook his head, "I'm just it's just gossip, Daphne. There's no way Harry Potter would actually try to kill another student, rivalry or not." 

But it wasn't just a rivalry anymore. Maybe he knew the truth about Draco. Maybe he knew Draco was a Death Eater. Maeve's thoughts were whizzing by a million miles a second as her brain tried to make sense of the mystery. 

Then, she squeezed her eyes shut. Maeve reminded herself that her mild curiosity had led to Draco Malfoy mugging her in the hallway because he was suspicious of her. 

"I just need to be caught up in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Maeve groaned, "I don't think I have space in my mind for any more drama between Malfoy and Potter."

Daphne looked mildly offended, but Anthony grinned, "finally, some sense!"

"Is Anthony infecting you with his love of all things homework?" Daphne joked, "where's our Maeve?"

"She hides whenever she realizes she isn't going to receive and Exceeds Expectations in Snape's stupid bloody class. I was so used to him teaching potions and now I have to put up with his impossible standards for a class I was never good at in the first place," Maeve forced her gaze back down at the textbook, "the only reason I did well before was because we had a new and equally horrible Professor each year, or the bloody exams were cancelled!"

Daphne snorted, "the fact that our best teacher in five years was a man who turned to a mangy dog once a month is rather ironic isn't it." 

Anthony shot the blonde Slytherin a stern look, "Lycanthropy is a disease, Daphne, just because — " 

"Sorry, sorry," Daphne raised her hands placatingly, "I forgot you're a sympathizer."

Anthony shook his head, "will you ever learn to be accepting and empathetic, or is that an unreachable dream?" 

"I am cold-blooded and Pure-blooded, Goldstein," Daphne pretended to snap her teeth together menacingly, "there's no hope for me."

"Charming." 

Maeve forced herself to reread the assigned reading for the second time while Anthony and Daphne bickered. Eventually, Daphne resigned herself to return to the dormitories as the library was far too 'quiet and dull' for her taste. 

"I wonder what shape my Patronus would take," Maeve mused, "they say you never know until you cast it, but that requires being able to make a corporeal Patronus and many are unable to." 

"I have a pretty good idea what your Patronus would be," Anthony said with a twinkle in his eye. 

"You don't mean ... " Maeve trailed off, unwilling to voice her thoughts where they may be overheard. 

"I do," Anthony nodded, "it isn't widely known, but yeah." 

Maeve shook her head, "Merlin, you're a walking wizarding encyclopedia." 

" _ Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure _ , Selwyn." 

Maeve closed the heavy tome and dragged another to take its place, cracking her neck with a sigh, "mind using your treasured wit to help with my Charms assignment?"

  
  



	15. Chapter 13 | 1997

###  Chapter 13 | 1997

_ The compartment was uncomfortably silent. Theo's eyes were empty as he stared out of the window, Daphne just looked shocked, Pansy was paying more attention to her nails than one possibly could, and Blaise's normally smug face was pinched.  _

_ Maeve glanced up at the door to the compartment just in time to see Harry Potter himself walk past with his two best friends. He didn't look in, and Maeve hadn't expected him to, but she saw him in a different light, after what had happened at the Ministry.  _

_ Potter had always come across as a bit of an oblivious fool with extraordinary luck, but something had changed. There was a dangerous edge to the boy she'd taken part in tormenting throughout the years.  _

_ Then, she shook her head to clear it. She had no intention of falling into the masses of those who hailed Saint Potter as ...  _ well _ ... a Saint. _

*******

Maeve awoke with the taste of lightning in her mouth. Something was wrong. She jumped to her feet and took in the clamour in the dormitory. Millicent and Pansy were throwing on clothes and Daphne had sat up, her head swivelling in confusion. 

"Hogwarts was infiltrated," Pansy said with pinched lips, "we're evacuating to the courtyard." 

Everything was a flurry of motion. Students pushed against each other, some cried, some wore pale numb expressions. 

Through a brief glance at a passing window, Maeve caught sight of two wizards duelling near the grounds keeper's hut which was burning with raging flames. She took a shuddering breath and continued following the flow of worried students. She caught sight of a blonde head and lurched forward, catching hold of Anthony's hand. 

They shared a grim look that said everything that needed to be said. Maeve turned to Daphne who was to her left and held out her hand to her friend. Daphne didn't hesitate in accepting her hand. Something about the connection to her friends in the time of terrifying uncertainty made Maeve feel a little fuller inside. 

But everything changed when they reached the courtyard. Like ocean waves lapping onto the sand, the tide of students lurched back when they caught sight of the broken body lying in the grass. 

The world lost its sound as the horrible truth rippled through the crowd. No one spoke, no one cried out, and no one moved. 

Harry Potter was suddenly there, walking through a crowd that parted with no hesitance. Every eye was on him as he fell to his knees beside the body of Albus Dumbledore.

Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, looked shattered. But she lifted her wand to the sky, pointing her wand tip towards the dancing Dark Mark that twisted in the sky. One by one, students and staff alike followed suit. 

Luna Lovegood raised her wand and Maeve followed suit. House didn't matter, everyone was grieving for the loss of one of the greatest wizards of their time. 

The searing light from their wands lit the courtyard as the darkness made way to the light. But the moment was heavy as everyone felt another part of the Wizarding World fall to darkness. 

*******

The train ride back to King's Cross was eerie. There was no faint hum of voices or the sound of the trolly's squeaking wheels. 

"I don't think I want to come back," Maeve said with a hoarse voice. The end of the year had passed in a liquid blur, but the change in Hogwarts was already palpable. 

"You have to come back," Daphne's face, sickly pale, was leaning against the seat and she didn't bother lifting her gaze as she spoke, " they'll make you." 

That was the worst part. Maeve knew just as well as her friends that there was no way she wouldn't be attending her seventh year of Hogwarts. But the fear that struck her accompanying that knowledge affected her more than she ever could've imagined. 

Anthony hadn't joined them in their compartment. Maeve hadn't seen much of him since everything had happened. A small part of her worried he'd blame her for everything. Sometimes the green colours she wore looked like a direct label. 

But she was indirectly responsible. 

"I - I'll be right back," Maeve jumped to her feet and stumbled through the train car towards the dining car that had a restroom. She knocked into a student but she stumbled away with a muttered apology. 

She barely made it to the toilet before she retched. 

The events of her summer clicked together in her mind. The Death Eaters had been planning something big, so big she'd been sworn to secrecy for overhearing a few muttered words. She wondered if the death of Dumbledore had been what they were planning.

Her stomach roiled again and she coughed. She was sure. Deep inside her stomach, she felt cold with certainty. Her eyes darted to hands that were clutching at the seat. 

Her parents had known. They'd known, and they had made her complicit without her knowledge. She was just as responsible as they were, no matter how small her part was in the larger play. 

She'd been an accessory in taking down one of the only wizards powerful enough to stop the Dark Lord. 

Maeve stood and flushed the toilet. She washed her hands, wiped the angry tears from her face, and smoothed her hair. In a daze, she made her way back to her friend's compartment. Her feet felt too light for her bones being so heavy. 

"All right, Maeve?" Theo mumbled absently trailing his thin fingers over the seats. He looked as hollow as she felt. So did Daphne.

"No." 

They stayed silent for the rest of the train ride after that.

  
  



	16. Part 2

###  Part 2

**The eye of the storm**

" _ We must all face the choice between what is right, _

_ and what is easy. _ "

\- Albus Dumbledore

  
  



	17. Chapter 14 | 1997

###  Chapter 14 | 1997

The soft knock didn't wake Maeve. She'd been staring at the ugly portrait of a cottage in a dark wood for what had felt like hours.

The knocker didn't bother waiting for confirmation before striding in. Pansy threw herself down beside her cousin without a word. 

Maeve turned from the wall to stare up at the ceiling as Pansy was.

Pansy was silent for a moment longer before she spoke, "this summer has been awful." 

Maeve's parents hadn't been at the station to pick her up. Apparently, they had urgent enough business in France to deal with that required her to spend the summer at her cousin's countryside home. Maeve's parents didn't even work for the French branch of the Ministry of Magic anymore. They hadn't for more than a year. 

The many branches of the Ministry worked in tandem on occasion, but Maeve wasn't stupid. She knew when she was being hidden away. 

It hadn't taken very long to realize the same was happening to Pansy. Her running theory was that Death Eaters had unwavering loyalty until their children were in the line of fire. Many weren't happy to throw their children into a war they had no part in. 

Maeve's parents had certainly failed in that regard, but they probably hadn't seen it that way.

"If you challenge me to one more game of Wizard's Chess I'm going to murder you in your sleep," Maeve said tiredly. 

The only productive thing she'd done all summer was lock herself in the room Pansy's parents had provided for her for hours on end. She'd spent days lifting books without her wand, but she hadn't made much progress at all. But it was a better alternative to sitting uncomfortably beside Pansy and Blaise as they snogged on the couch. 

The two had begun a relationship sometime near the end of the year, apparently, and he enjoyed dropping in unannounced to disappear with her cousin doing Merlin-knew-what. Maeve had a pretty good idea, but she preferred to pretend she didn't. 

"You're just jealous of my superior strategic senses," Pansy quipped back mildly. She turned on her side to face her cousin, eyebrows pinched together, "everything has been so quiet. Too quiet. I'm nervous about school." 

Maeve shared the feeling. She turned on her side to face her cousin and nodded in agreement, "Hogwarts without Dumbledore seems wrong. I know we laughed at the old crone sometimes, but you can't deny how brilliant he really was."

"Dumbledore is what happens when an absolute moron gains enormous power," Pansy hedged, unwilling to fully credit their late Headmaster. Old habits died hard. 

Maeve didn't push her cousin further. There wasn't much of a point. It wasn't as if Albus Dumbledore had been her hero in any way. He was just an old wizard who died before his time — and she couldn't help but feel guilty about it. 

"We're going to Diagon Alley after lunch," Pansy sat up, "and you've missed breakfast. So stop being so lazy and get up." 

*******

"The Forbidden Art Of Dark Magic - " Maeve read out in a monotone voice, " - English translation."

Pansy dipped through the pages of the heavy book, bound in black leather with gold lettering, "these spells are bloody amazing — far more advanced than those we've ever learned before."

Maeve didn't argue, but the theme of the list of books required for their seventh year wasn't lost on her. 

When the two young witches exited Obscurus Books, Maeve was struck once more with how many shops had been closing down. The streets were darker, almost reminiscent of Nocturne Alley. There wasn't the surplus of shady characters, more-so scared-looking families shopping for their child's school supplies.

"I don't see mum anywhere, she's probably still tied up at Gringotts. Let's go to Twilfitt and Tatting's before she drags us back to ' _ Azkaban _ '," Pansy joked. 

The two passed the odd vendor hawking supposed charms against dark magic and potions that made you impervious to curses. Maeve resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the scared-looking witches and wizards standing in line. She didn't understand why they even bothered. If they were so scared, nothing was stopping them from picking up and fleeing to another country away from the pulse-point of the Dark Lord's machinations. Too many to count already had. 

Twilfitt and Tatting's was an upmarket shop with upmarket prices, but Pansy swore everything hanging on the racks was the best of the best. Everything reminded Maeve of the sleek clothing witches and wizards wore in Paris before she'd left, the heavy fabrics were like little bursts of memory as she ran her fingers over a rack of robes. 

"Maeve, look at this!" Pansy called from a rack away, holding an emerald green cloak, "this would look lovely with my hair." 

Maeve rolled her eyes and laughed. Pansy thought everyone would look lovely with her hair. She continued to thumb through the racks, eventually coming across a jumper so deeply blue it was almost black. She fingered the soft wool thoughtfully. 

Pansy dropped a hat onto Maeve's head and over her eyes. Maeve snorted out a laugh and pulled the yellow bowler from her head, giving it a poisonous look of utter disgust as she pressed it back into a cackling Pansy's hands. 

"That colour is hideous," Maeve mocked a shiver. 

"Pansy? Is that you dear?" A tall woman with dark black and brilliantly blonde hair striped towards the two girls, a soft smile on her ruby red mouth. 

"Mrs. Malfoy!" Pansy grinned at the woman. 

Maeve had adopted a polite smile, but it twitched when she heard the name Malfoy. She instantly recognized Narcissa Malfoy. Draco's mother was beautiful in a classic way, exuding confidence and grace, but her image was tainted by Maeve's bitter feelings for Draco. 

She hadn't seen much of him since he'd mauled her near the Slytherin dorms during their sixth year, but she hadn't forgotten. Every time she'd seen his platinum blonde head in the halls since the incident she'd avoided him like the black plague. Maeve had always been wary of Malfoy and his blatant ignorance of how his actions reflected on himself, but she drew a distinct line in the sand when he'd practically attacked her. 

She didn't care if he was the right-hand man to the Dark Lord himself, Maeve wouldn't bow her head to the horse's ass. 

"You've grown so tall," Narcissa swept Pansy into a gentle hug, before turning on Maeve, "are you one of Draco's friends from school?"

Maeve kept her face neutral when she responded, "we've bumped into each other from time to time." 

"This is my cousin, Maeve," Pansy said Malfoy's mother. 

"Well, it's lovely to meet you Maeve," Narcissa said with an obviously genuine smile. 

Maeve thought it was a shame her politeness hadn't rubbed off on her insolent son. 

"Is Draco here?" Pansy inquired as Maeve quietly thought to herself 'Merlin, please no', "I haven't heard much from him all summer."

Narcissa's face adopted a pained twinge, her lips thinning and her eyes adopting a glaze, "he isn't, no. He'll be attending term this year, though. I'm sure you'll find him on the train tomorrow."

Pansy looked relieved — as if Draco attending term had been uncertain. 

One could only dream, Maeve thought to herself. Over the summer, her bitterness towards Draco had grown exponentially as her irritation festered inside herself along with her guilt and nervousness about the year to come. She imagined herself shoving Draco into a dark alcove to give him a taste of his own medicine, but she knew she would never follow through. 

At the end of the day, risking her own skin for vengeance wasn't her style.

" — Better get back to my mum," Pansy was saying as Maeve tuned out of her thoughts.

Narcissa offered a subdued wave to the two girls as Pansy dragged her cousin from the shop. She began whispering to Maeve the moment the door swung shut behind them, "did you see the way she reacted when I brought up Draco? Maeve I've been so worried about him. Not a single owl all summer from him. Blaise says he's seen him, but he didn't say much. And - "

Pansy cut herself off when her frowning mother came into view.


	18. Chapter 15 | 1997

###  Chapter 15 | 1997

"Hurry up, Maeve!" Pansy scolded, forging a path through the wide-eyed first-year students who looked rather lost.

Maeve exhaled sharps through her nose. After two whole months holed up with her cousin, her nerves had frayed and her patience had worn thin. She rolled her sore neck from one side to the other, before following her cousin. 

Her eyes caught on a familiar blonde head when she idly glanced into a compartment and her steps stuttered to a stop. Anthony was sitting in a car with Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. 

"Excuse me," a dreamy voice said from beside her. Maeve turned to face none other than Luna Lovegood. She offered Maeve a winning smile, "oh, hiya Maeve."

Maeve stepped aside for Luna as the Ravenclaw stepped past her into the car. The three pairs of eyes looked up at Luna's entrance.

"Maeve," Anthony's smile was pained.

"Anthony."

Maeve didn't bother with more of a greeting. The suspicious gazes of the Junior Golden Trio were enough to send her away feeling more than a little uncomfortable. She forgot sometimes that Anthony was friends with a slew of students, including Potter's friends, as well as hers. She didn't know how he walked the line so easily. 

Maeve didn't bother looking for a compartment, she just headed to the dining car and stowed her trunk. She slumped down across from a haggard-looking Daphne. She was pale and her blonde hair lacked its usual brilliant sheen.

"Are you ill?" Maeve questioned with a frown.

"Something like that," Daphne grumbled, patting at her hair self-consciously, "why, do I look awful?"

"Not at all."

A lie.

"God, Greengrass, you look  _ awful _ ," Theo slid into the seat beside her and poked a finger at her sallow cheek, "did you die and come back over summer break?"

Daphne slapped his hand away, "piss off, Nott. I'm not in the mood."

Theo bit his lip to hold in a laugh before he let out a dramatic, " _ ooh _ ."

The train lurched forward, the rhythmic chugging beginning. The whistle sounded and Maeve felt relieved. 

Back to school. Back to some semblance of normal.

"Did you hear?" Theo pulled a Daily Prophet from his rucksack and slapped it on the table.

"New Headmaster for Hogwarts ... " Maeve murmured under her breath as she read. She paused, blinked, and reread the last line, "Severus Snape Confirmed?" 

Daphne's eyebrows shot up, "I thought he was the Defence Against teacher now? Who's going to teach that? And who's going to be head of house?"

"Position's cursed," Maeve let her head fall to her crossed arms on the table, "every year a new teacher. They either die, or end up horribly disfigured."

"Remember Umbridge?" Theo snorted out a laugh, "she was a literal bat from hell. Merlin, it was entertaining to watch her chase around Potter."

"Remember when the Weasel twins nearly set her on fire?" Daphne's voice held a begrudging smile, "that was truly legendary. If they weren't blood traitors they'd be all right."

Maeve let her eyes fall closed, breathing a sigh out of her nose, "I just don't want to spend another year learning from a moron who doesn't know the difference between an offensive spell and a tickling charm."

Daphne and Theo grunted in agreement, but Maeve was no longer listening. She let the rhythmic sound of the express chugging along the tracks lull her heavy head into the realm of sleep. It was slow. The darkness edged in like a warm blanket. 

It didn't last long, however. It felt like a blink of an eye later when Maeve awoke, her heart in her throat, "why are we stopping?" 

Her hair had fallen from its loose braid and she tugged it out of her eyes to look around. The terrain slowed from a blur to rolling countryside. The windows grew frosty. 

Maeve pulled her wand from her pocket and placed it on the table under her hand. The unpleasant feeling that signalled the arrival of Dementors washed over her. The car went from alight with concerned chatter to silent in a great wave of horror. 

Her heart felt cold, her eyes heavy. She felt like she'd never be happy again. 

Footsteps were thudding loudly down the train. The door to the car slid open loudly and Maeve turned her head slowly. It felt as if she was moving underwater and all the air had emptied her lungs at once.

There were three men in dark robes that spoke of dark allegiance. 

One of them was her father. 

Ragnor Selwyn. Antonin Dolohov. And another she didn't recognize. 

They were clearly looking for someone. Their eyes scanned the faces of the students in the car, stepping forward slowly. 

"My father will hear about this!" Cormac said in a brief attempt to intimidate them. 

Her father levelled him with a withering look that sent him sitting down hard. His eyes skated over the students in the car, briefly locking on her before moving on as if he hadn't seen her. 

Maeve felt her stomach petrify. 

"Hey  _ losers _ ," Neville Longbottom was standing by a table where Ginny Weasley sat with an angry look on her face. His voice didn't quiver, his eyes didn't waver, "he isn't here." 

Dolohov motioned with his hand and the three of them left the car without a second glance. 

The moment the door closed, the whispers erupted. 

Maeve turned her gaze to the table, where her hand clenched her wand so tight the thin lines on the back of her hand stood out. She unclenched her hand with great difficulty and stuffed her wand in her robes' pocket. 

"Was that ... " Theo trailed off, his voice uncertain and small. 

Maeve looked up in time to see Daphne shoot him a quelling glare. The train car was filled with all kinds of ears that didn't need to know that Maeve Selwyn's father had just raided the Hogwarts Express with two other Death Eaters in tow. 

Clearing her throat, Maeve tried to keep her voice even, "when did Longbottom even show up?" Her voice was thin and breathless to her own ears but Daphne and Theo didn't comment. 

"You were sleeping," Daphne supplied. She shot the Gryffindor a suspicious glance, "when did he stop being the bumbling idiot who cried about a Remembrall and that stupid toad, to someone who'd do — well —  _ that _ ?" 

Daphne didn't exactly look jealous, but something like grudging respect shone behind her blue eyes. 

The air of the train car had soured. For the remainder of the ride, voices were kept to a low murmur and almost everyone jumped at sudden noises. 

When the train squealed to a stop, Maeve and her friends waited until the large majority of the crowd had left before they trailed behind. They joined the older students waiting for the carriages, voices low as they discussed their similarly uneventful summers. Maeve was sure each one of them was leaving out an important detail or two.

When the three of them came to a stop, Maeve saw the two figures standing to the side in matching dark robes, beady eyes watching the group of students like birds with prey. 

"They're the Carrows," Anthony's voice was heavy and pained. Maeve turned to speak to him but he just pinned her with sad blue eyes, "stay away from them."

Then he turned to melt into the crowd.


	19. Chapter 16 | 1997

### Chapter 16 | 1997

The fact that Snape had barely even made a welcome speech in any shape or form, followed by the lack of song on the Sorting Hat's part was past disconcerting. The welcome feast felt dreary and lacking in every ounce of spirit it had previously held. 

Maeve felt bad for the scared-looking first years who sat at their new houses' respective tables. They no doubt had held Hogwarts to a much higher standard, and it wasn't measuring up. If anything, it was measuring down. She couldn't look up at the staff table without a chill crawling up her spine. 

Anthony's warning played in the back of her mind as she stabbed at her food. The food tasted as marvellous as ever, but it turned to ash in her mouth when she let the gravity of what was happening overtake her mind. 

She thought of the thick volume she'd scoffed at. _The Forbidden Art of Dark Magic_. Power and Poisons. The list had gone on like that, seeming to be one big joke. 

Around the end of the first quarter of the Forbidden Art of Dark Magic, there had been an extensive entry on the unforgivable curses and their history, along with detailed instructions for casting. The last teacher who had even spoken of the unforgivable curses in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class had turned out to be a Death Eater impersonating Alastor Moody. It was not a coincidence they were being reintroduced. 

Maeve hadn't realized when she'd started staring a hole into the Carrows until she had nearly memorized every minute detail of their appearances. The witch was stocky with a pale and angry face. The wizard, who Maeve assumed was her brother, was squat and hunched, sharing an equally pale, porcine face. 

"I recognize them," Theo said, soft enough for only Maeve to overhear, "the witch is Alecto, and the wizard — her brother — is Amycus. They're terrors."

"You should have come to Pansy's with me," Maeve said, almost to herself. When she glanced at Theo out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyes soften and a sad smile spread across his lips. 

"It's fine, really. Crabbe isn't awful company when it comes down to it."

"I thought you were staying at Malfoy Manor?"

Theo's expression hardened, "there was a change in plans."

Maeve didn't push him further. Instead, she shoved a spoonful of bread pudding into her mouth to avoid talking. There was an all-around hush, but it was impossible for a room so large and filled with students to ever be truly devoid of chattering voices. 

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Maeve slowly glanced around. She half-expected newly appointed Headmaster Snape to appear out of nowhere and admonish her for things she hadn't even done. 

Instead, her eyes locked with a distinct pair of grey eyes. Draco Malfoy looked haughty as ever, but the dark circles under his eyes and slight greyish tinge to his skin made him appear vaguely frail. She thought back to how his mother had adopted a pained look at the mention of her son. 

Maeve was almost happy, deep down. He looked like he was slowly being swallowed by an unforgiving world and he couldn't do a thing about it. It served him right.

She broke their stare-down and trained her eyes on her empty plate. That was wrong. Even the likes of Draco Malfoy didn't deserve the after-effects of the long-growing dark war. Maeve reminded herself for the millionth time that they couldn't be held accountable for the collateral damage of a war they didn't instigate. 

Could they?

It would be unfair to have to face the consequences of her mother's sins, her father's. But that was how life seemed to go. Like a great wheel, generations made mistakes that accumulated before they fell atop the younger generations and, in the scramble to fix the messes of their predecessors, the new generation made mistakes of their own. 

"Maeve?" Daphne snapped, sounding almost irritated.

"Hmm?" Maeve blinked hard before raising her gaze to her friend's pale face.

"I _said_ , 'when did Pansy and Blaise start dating?'," she spoke slowly as if Maeve was an idiot. 

"The summer holidays. Not sure exactly when."

"And?" Daphne looked rather expectant.

"And?" Maeve suddenly felt doggedly tired. Her eyelids felt droopy and she ran a hand over her face in a vain attempt to stimulate some sort of invigorating reaction, "and I didn't ask much about it because I didn't want to know."

"You didn't want to know how Blaise Zabini ended up snogging Pansy bloody Parkinson?" Daphne raised her eyebrows placidly, "I think I'd be rather interested in watching an accident waiting to happen from start to finish." 

"You know _Pansy bloody Parkinson_ is my cousin, right?" Maeve asked, her hand covering her eyes, "you don't have to be rude."

"I'm not being rude. Pansy is perfectly fine, but I never would have guessed-"

"Daphne," Theo cut her off, his voice adopting the edge it did when he felt the need to stop an argument before it even started. He had always been quick with a joke or a ribbing, but more and more Maeve found him shutting off Daphne and her before they mumbled out of the sides of their necks for too long, "Maeve doesn't care. She's just too non-confrontational to tell you off for being so bloody irritating."

Daphne was quiet for a moment. Then, over the soft ambient noise in the Great Hall, there was the distinct sound of her hitting him somewhere, "shove off, Nott." 

Maeve looked up in time to see Daphne gazing down at her nails and Theo rubbing at the top of his head. He sneered at the blonde witch, "you're a bloody menace, Greengrass. One of these days, when you least expect it, I'm going to lock you in Filch's office." 

"I'd like to see you try. You're skinnier than me, you stupid — "

Maeve stood up and cracked her neck from side to side. Then, she faced her confused friends and mumbled, "I'm going to head up to the dorms." 

She left them before they could complain or offer to accompany her. 

The halls were relatively empty, but she hadn't been the first student to leave the feast as soon as possible. It seemed many of her peers shared the creeping discomfort that was slowly washing over her every step she took in the castle. 

Luna Lovegood grinned at Maeve and her companion, Neville Longbottom, looked at her like she was crazy. Lovegood didn't seem to mind, she just continued to skip down the hall, unbothered. 

Maeve didn't think she'd ever even initiated a conversation with Luna 'Loony' Lovegood, but she had somehow acquired her as an acquaintance. She didn't know how to feel about it. She contemplated her brief interactions with the younger Ravenclaw witch as she trudged towards the Dungeons. 

There was a moment where it felt as if Maeve could feel the space behind her become occupied, before she felt a hand land on her elbow. Her shoulders hunched up defensively and she jerked away.

"What the — " she glared at the perpetrator, "Malfoy."

He glared down at her as if she had been the one to grab her in the dark corridor, "Selwyn."

"What do you want? To _accost_ me again?"

He snorted, "I barely _accosted_ you — "

"You - " Maeve felt her mouth open in shock for a moment as she stuttered out her angry words, "you _threw_ me against a stone wall!"

"You're _exaggerating_."

He rolled his eyes. 

"Stay away from me, Malfoy," Maeve took a step towards him, invading his personal space in order to at least try to intimidate the arrogant young wizard. To her surprise, he took a step back to keep a semblance of distance between the two of them.

"Or what?" He sneered.

"You don't want to find out, I'm sure." 

Maeve turned to the wall and said, " _Pure-blood_ ," before walking as fast as she possibly could to the safety of the girls' dormitory. She had been bluffing in every sense of the word. There wasn't much one could do to a Malfoy, but she just wanted to stay out of his direct warpath if there was anything she could do about it. 

If he had thought that shoving her against a stone wall was an acceptable answer for suspicious gazing about, Maeve didn't want to find out what else he'd deem necessary. If Pansy had been right about him being a Death Eater, and Pansy was almost always right about gossip, there were far worse situations one could find themselves in.


	20. Chapter 17 | 1997

###  Chapter 17 | 1997

"I have a task for you all," Professor Slughorn had a gleam in his eye that made Maeve wary, "each and every one of you will have a chance at gaining an  _ Outstanding _ on one major assessment this year."

Maeve and Theo glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"You will each have until Christmas break to brew me a potion from  _ Advanced Potions _ . There will be quite a lot of breaks in our schedule this year as the potions you will be learning are truly complicated and require a great deal of time for practical experience. Because of this, you may replace one mark, or simply skip an assessment and replace it with an  _ Outstanding _ . All you have to do is brew one potion successfully."

There was a moment of silence before the excited whispers broke out. 

"Be warned!" Slughorn raised two meaty hands, "this will require quite a bit of extra time and effort. If you do not wish to partake, you are not obligated to."

Maeve's eyes absently drifted across the room to where Anthony sat with Dean Thomas and two Hufflepuff girls that looked familiar. Their eyes locked and she could tell the exact same memories were flitting through his mind. Then he turned his eyes to the bench.

It was the first day of classes and Anthony hadn't said anything to her since the night before right after they'd gotten off the train. She had an aching feeling in the pit of her gut that something horrible and awful had happened, something that made him avoid her like they hadn't been friends for nearly five years. 

The rest of the class was filled with an in-depth description of how one would go about brewing a Polyjuice Potion. The previous year they'd learned the theory behind the tricky potion, but they were supposedly going to spend the next twenty-two days preparing and brewing the potion. Maeve rubbed her eyes harshly as she tried to make sense of the awkward schedule Slughorn had briefly tried to explain, before giving up entirely. 

Their time each day would often be split between multiple different potions and it seemed to be a recipe for disaster. A quick glance around the room confirmed that quite a few of her fellow students felt overwhelmed at the concept of their last year of potions.

Slughorn clapped his hands loudly, startling Maeve from the recesses of her subconscious, "now, we just have enough time for you to all begin stewing your Lacewing Flies."

Maeve chatted idly with Theo as they readied their already-dead flies for stewing. There was a subtle chatter around them as well, drowning out their conversation to all but them. 

"I can't believe Daphne didn't bother taking potions with us," Maeve grumbled, "now I only have you for entertainment."

Theo snorted, "I don't think she qualified. Her grades were awful last term."

"Oh?" Maeve hadn't known that. Though, generally when Maeve had been studying Daphne had been the one encouraging her to stop and do something fun. Or, she'd been burrowed under a mountain of covers in her bed. 

Theo grinned at Maeve, "look at us, gossiping like a bunch of old hags."

Maeve snorted and pointed her wand at her simmering cauldron, levitating it towards the bench along the wall they'd been instructed to leave their cauldrons on, "I hardly think us briefly mentioning Daphne's grades counts as gossiping, Nott."

"You're right," Theo slid back down beside her on the bench and leaned his elbows on the table, "what's something more interesting to talk about, then?"

For some reason, Maeve was tempted to say, 'Malfoy attacked me last term because he thought I was a spy and then tried to talk to me last night', but she just shrugged. 

Theo laughed weakly, "we're nothing without Daphne complaining about everything, are we?"

"I suppose so."

*******

Maeve stared at a spot just above Alecto Carrows head. She'd been surprised when her schedule had said Muggle Studies in bold letters, claiming it was every Monday afternoon, but she hadn't expected the class Alecto was teaching.

She'd never been all that interested in the study of  _ Les Plébéiens _ before, but she'd had a vague idea about the basics of the class whenever Anthony brought up random facts. But the new Muggle Studies was nothing like the informative elective it had been before. 

There were no assignments. No Readings. Simply hour and a half long lectures where Alecto stalked between the rows of students, spittle flying from her mouth as she recounted from memory the horror of the First Witch Trials. There had been the oddest small smile on her pig-like face when she'd described in detail how flesh burned under the immense heat. 

The more she talked, the higher and louder her voice became. At the end of the class, she let out a satisfied wheezy giggle as if she'd accomplished a great feat in reducing so many students to pale-faced ghosts. 

They made it to the courtyard before Daphne muttered a weak, "that was  _ horrible _ ."

"Whoever told that old bat to teach here should be fired," Pansy said with a shudder, "it's like she enjoys knowing how uncomfortable she makes it."

"She probably does," Daphne agreed. 

Maeve took a seat on the cold ground, pulling her knees to her chest protectively. Her friends sprawled in a lopsided circle, Pansy and Daphne looking green, Theo looking grey. 

"I can't believe we have to sit through that every week," Pansy shook her head and curled her lip in disdain.

Blaise appeared at one of the entrances to the courtyard. He strode across the grass with his usual swagger and came to a stop behind Pansy. He sat down and she leaned against him heavily. 

Maeve fought the urge to roll her eyes at his smug expression. She knew he found pleasure in the shocked reactions of her friends. 

"Who knew Muggles had so many creative ways devised to kill us," he joked, his voice mirthful. Maeve could see he was trying to act as if he was unshaken by the horrible lecture.

"The Carrows are Death Eaters," Maeve let her eyes drift to the overcast sky. She could feel the tension of her friends; these were not things they ever discussed, "they're pushing their ideals. It's propaganda."

"Maeve ... " Theo's voice held a warning tone in it, but he didn't say anything else.

Maeve sighed, and took in her friend's carefully constructed facial expressions. Theo looked somewhat pleading, Daphne glanced skittishly around as if they'd be overheard, Pansy appeared vaguely concerned, and Blaise looked annoyed. 

"No one else was going to say it," Maeve said with a shrug. She stood and dusted off her backside, avoiding eye contact, "I'm tired. I'll see you all at supper." 

Feeling slightly put out, Maeve wandered slowly back to the dungeons. The halls weren't overly crowded, but she caught sight of students from every year. The first years looked wide-eyed and scared. 

When she'd been a first-year the most she'd had to worry about was learning how to cast the simplest of spells and being away from home. Things had changed so much and Maeve wondered if she would have even stayed at Hogwarts if she had been a first-year that year.

She decided that she most definitely wouldn't have.

  
  



	21. Chapter 18 | 1997

###  Chapter 18 | 1997

The first few weeks of term had been nothing but a nightmare that starts off as a strange dream. Every day there seemed to be a potent darkness permeating further, just enough to make things seem wrong, but not enough to realize the change until later.

At the start of term, three students had attempted to break into Snape's office and had been sentenced to detention with the lumbering, kind-hearted groundskeeper. Weeks later, Maeve watched a Gryffindor cursed in the middle of the hall by Alecto Carrow for speaking blasphemies about the Dark Lord to his friends. 

Every time she caught sight of the Carrow siblings storming down the hall with wicked fire in their eyes she took an unconscious step back. Even though she knew she was safe. She was a Selwyn, a Slytherin, a child of two Death Eaters. They had no reason to be after her. 

Maeve still couldn't help but feel like they could read her mind and see the roiling emotions in her stomach. She wasn't so broken to think what they were doing was right in any way, she just didn't act. 

Instead, she spent her time with her head down. She had decided on brewing Veritaserum for her extracurricular potions assignment and thrown herself into texts at the library. She had read her textbooks cover to cover. She had avoided any reminders of her life outside of work. 

But everything shattered when she entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Amycus Carrow stood at the front of the class, and a line of three shaking students stood in a row beside him. They looked to be first years. 

Her eyes started watering as she set her books down. Rapidly blinking, she forced herself to breathe, to act as though she didn't expect the worse. But she'd read ahead. She had a horrible inkling as to the day's lesson. 

Amycus whipped his wand viciously and the door to the classroom slammed shut. He started every class with the action, but it never failed to make half of the class jump in their seats. 

" _ The Imperius Curse _ ," he said, voice slow but tinged with excitement, "it is a work of true magical ingeniousness. Invented during the early ages by witches and wizards ahead of their time, it has been one of the most powerful spells to ever be created. When the Wizards' Council was reformed into the Ministry of Magic, however, it and its sisters were heavily restricted under magical law."

Maeve glanced around the class surreptitiously. There were many pairs of eyes watching Amycus Carrow with rapt attention. Some were mildly horrified, some were terrified, and a few looked intrigued.

The Carrow turned sharply and pointed his wand at the student in the centre — a young witch with brown pigtails and a plump face, " _ Imperio _ ."

The young witch blinked slowly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream. A dreamy smile spread across her face, directly opposed to the sheer terror that had been instilled in her moments before. 

"When cast correctly," the Carrow grinned, his mouth lopsided and gleeful, "the subject should feel nothing but a dreamlike calm. And, of course, they will bow to your every command." 

The silence after his words were thick. The entire class watched in horror as he took a few steps toward her and whispered something in her ear. She began to dance. 

Round and round she spun, her feet moving faster and faster. She was breathing hard and her face was contorted in concentration as she focused on her task. With every step she took, Maeve felt her stomach drop an inch lower, until her organs were in her shoes. 

At first, it had seemed almost normal, but as she went on the sense of total and complete wrong-ness set in. 

Finally, the Carrow flicked his wand and she came to a sprawling stop. Tears shone on her cheeks and she looked nothing less than entirely gone. 

The rest of the class was a blur. Amycus Carrow assigned them the chapter on the Imperius Curse to read and informed them that there would be practical application the following day. 

When they were dismissed, Maeve sped from the class as fast as she could without running. Someone called her name, but she ignored them. She made a beeline to the closest bathroom and shoved the door open. 

Two Hufflepuff girls were washing their hands and chatting amiably. They gave Maeve odd looks as she rushed past them into the closest toilet and emptied her stomach into the basin. Nausea came in great waves that washed over her and tugged at her stomach until was doing nothing but gagging over the toilet. 

She took a deep breath, spat, and flushed the toilet. 

The two Hufflepuff girls were still at the sinks, watching her with wide eyes. Maeve ignored them as she approached the sinks. She turned the water to ice cold and splashed water on her face to erase the tear stains. 

She slowly turned to look at the girls. She had been able to feel their gaze on her the entire time, but hadn't had the energy to acknowledge them. They were frozen in shock, eyes big and mouths open. 

"What are you looking at?" She hissed, before shoving herself away from the sink and storming right back out of the bathroom. 

She collided with a very concerned Anthony. His eyebrows pinched together and he grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a quick once over before he spoke, "Maeve? Are you all right?"

"No," she blinked hard, before looking around at the students crowding the hall, "I'm fine. Where have you been?"

Anthony also took a look at the many students and grabbed her by the arm. He led her down the hall, turning a few times, until they found themselves in a relatively quiet alcove, "I've been avoiding you."

"I'm aware," Maeve snorted, "I understand why, but I also don't. At all." 

"The Ministry took my mother," Anthony whispered, his eyes fell to his shoes, "it isn't your fault. But she's a Muggle-born and with everything going on right now I just thought it would be safest for me to stay out of your Pure-blood spotlight."

"I'm so sorry, Anthony," Maeve murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. She placed a hand on his shoulder, "you know I don't believe any of that bollocks, right?"

"Don't you?" He turned his blue eyes to hers and she felt her stomach tighten, "it seems you and Theo and Pansy and Daphne spout nothing but blood-purity nonsense. It only doesn't apply when it's your friend." 

Maeve felt like she'd been slapped, "I  _ do _ think it's nonsense!"

"Then why do you never stand up to them? Why do you associate yourself with people like Draco Malfoy? You know if you said something there would be others like you that'd agree with you."

"I can't — I'm not — "

"You can't be with them and against them, Maeve. It's not how this works. You're either on the right or wrong side."

"I don't know what's right or wrong," Maeve sputtered, "these aren't just sides for me." 

"They are," Anthony said firmly, "how can you stand this, Maeve? You can stand by and watch  _ them _ destroy our world?"

He wasn't talking about her Slytherin friends anymore. He was talking about Death Eaters. 

"Anthony," something broke inside her, "there are things you don't know, things that - I can't. I can't  _ do _ anything." 

Anthony sighed, "fine."

His entire face went stone and he began trudging away. Maeve followed him. They reached the mouth of the corridor where it crossed with another and she caught sight of a tall blonde walking towards them. 

"Anthony - " Maeve squinted, and recognized Draco Malfoy, "Ah, bloody - Anthony, please."

"No, feel free to go make nice with  _ Malfoy _ ," Anthony glared at her one final time, before storming away. He spit out the word  _ Malfoy _ like it was a curse. 

Malfoy was definitely walking towards her, specifically. 

A curse indeed.


	22. Chapter 19 | 1997

###  Chapter 19 | 1997

Maeve contemplated running after Anthony, but she didn't know what to say to him. She felt so twisted up inside. There wasn't a right answer anymore to all the questions she asked herself. 

_ Was she doing the right thing? _

_ Was she a good person? _

_ Was she just as bad as those who pledged their wands to the Dark Lord? _

Planting her feet and tipping up her chin in defiance, Maeve stared Malfoy down as he stalked towards her. She couldn't read him. He had been a petulant child for years, volatile and arrogant, but things had changed over the past year. He was closed off and stone-faced half the time. 

It made her skin crawl. 

She remembered when they were all younger and he would be screeching his head off a quarter of the time. It had almost been funny. It  _ would _ have been funny if he hadn't had the power to end most of their parents' careers with a single letter to home.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Her voice was tired and irritated. 

"Was that Ravenclaw boy bothering you?" He came to a stop an inch closer than made Maeve comfortable. He glanced around her in the direction Anthony had stormed off as he spoke. 

"No. What are you going to do? Throw him into a wall as well?"

Malfoy snorted, "I just wanted to see if you were all right. You ran out of Carrows class like your robe was on fire."

Maeve took a step back in shock and she narrowed her eyes up at his thin face, "why do care, Malfoy?"

"Am I not allowed to care for the wellbeing of a classmate?"

"No," Maeve barked out a laugh. Malfoy was not someone who cared much for anyone other than himself. It was painfully obvious. 

Draco glanced around with unreadable grey eyes, before taking hold of Maeve's arm and leading her into the alcove she and Anthony had been arguing in. The moment they were out of view his face darkened and he squinted down at her, "I want to know what you know."

Maeve threw her hands in the air, tugging her arm from his grasp in the process, "Merlin, Draco, do you ever leave off?"

His expression took on a shifty nature, "I can't have you spreading lies about me."

"I don't know anything about you! I don't care if you're a Death Eater. I don't care if you're simply a spoiled child. I know this may come as a shock to you, but you aren't exactly at the forefront of my mind."

He had the decency to look at least a bit chastised. 

"Honestly," Maeve felt the familiar exhaustion she'd been feeling for weeks wash over her, "I'm more worried I'll have to  _ kill _ someone for an assignment, than the shady things you did in the Room of Requirement last year." 

"They'd never-"

"Wouldn't they?" Maeve let herself lean against the cold stone of the wall and tilted her gaze up to meet his uncertain eyes, "don't fool yourself into thinking they won't use us as chess pieces in this war. There's a reason the Carrows are here, and there's a reason Snape is headmaster. It wouldn't be the first time they involved children in the death of innocents."

She blinked slowly, watching Draco's face morph from anger to confusion to shock. She knew her outburst was going to come back and bite her, but it felt good to finally let out her frustrations. 

"So you do know," was all Draco said. He looked as though he was trying to decide how best to proceed. 

"No," Maeve sighed, "I have literally no idea what you're talking about, please, enlighten me."

"Don't lie!" Draco took a step forward and Maeve's heartbeat kicked up as she found herself trapped between him and the wall, "you know I was tasked to kill him. You just won't admit it."

"I - what?" Maeve blinked up at him, trying to make sense of his words. Slowly, something inside her began to sink as his words were strung together in her mind, "Oh.  _ Putain _ .  _ Non, mon Dieu _ .  _ You _ — ?"

Her eyes felt like they were so wide they would fall out of her skull at any moment as she stared up into Draco's pained face, "you  _ killed _ Dumbledore?"

"No!" Draco hissed. He looked over his shoulder to make sure there was no one listening, "I never - I was supposed to - Oh, bloody  _ fuck _ ."

His hands sank into his hair as the realization of what he'd admitted washed over him. Maeve stared at him, frozen in shock, as her mind whirred a million kilometres a second. Her first instinct was to run away and tell someone, anyone, the truth.

But a darker truth washed over her and she lifted her right hand up, staring at the red lines. She couldn't tell anyone what she'd learned. It pertained to the Unbreakable Vow.

" _ Fuck, _ " she hissed pushing the heels of her hands against her eyebrows, " _ je déteste ma vie _ ."

"I couldn't do it," Draco turned back to her, his voice pleading and his eyes wide and scared, "I couldn't kill him."

"Like that makes a difference!" Maeve's voice was shrill and she felt short of breath. She kept on blinking, but the stinging in her eyes didn't lessen one bit. 

"It does. It does!" Draco seemed to be attempting to convince himself as his words were almost too quiet for Maeve to hear. After a moment of silence, he turned to her, "you cannot tell  _ anyone _ ."

"Obviously!" Maeve glared at him, "I'm not a moron, Malfoy."

"Wait, you  _ aren't _ going to tell your little Ravenclaw boyfriend?" 

Maeve lifted her hand right up close to Malfoy's face. He flinched back briefly as if she was going to hit him, "I  _ can't _ ."

"What do you m — " Draco stopped mid-word as his eyes narrowed on the thin scars that crisscrossed the back of her hand. The strain fell from his face entirely and he regained a semblance of his arrogant swagger, "you made an _ Unbreakable Vow. _ "

He said it in an almost accusatory way as if she'd done something stupid and childish. 

"My family made me do things I never wanted to agree to. I'm sure you know the feeling," Maeve spit out the words she knew would have the harshest effect. She wanted him to hurt. 

She wanted company in her misery. 

Draco took a step back, glaring at her, "piss off."

He turned and began walking away. 

Maeve was briefly disappointed. A small part of her had almost wanted him to bite back, to punish her for her actions in ways she couldn't. She wanted to scream and yell and kick and punch until she was writhing on the floor, but she just stared at Malfoy's back as he walked away. 

"You too!" She called out, "and stay away from me!"

He didn't respond, which somehow just made her angrier.


	23. Chapter 20 | 1997

###  Chapter 20 | 1997

Maeve rubbed at her bleary eyes with the back of her fist as she stumbled through the halls, planning to eat an early breakfast before retreating to the library until she had class. She paused when she arrived at a junction in the corridor, her eyes stopping on blood-red letters painted on the wall. 

_ Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting _ .

Filch was viciously scrubbing at the red paint but the more he scrubbed the more obvious it seemed. 

And it was in one of the busiest halls in the school. 

There was a thunder of steps behind her and she turned to see Headmaster Snape and the Carrow's coming to a stop a few metres from the wall, glaring at the graffiti. 

"Move along," Snape growled, his voice tinged with rage.

Maeve didn't have to be told twice, she picked up the pace and kept her head down as she ate breakfast, her mind reeling. Everyone knew a bit about what had happened in their fifth year, when Professor Umbridge had all but banned Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potter had rallied a rag-tag group of students to secretly learn banned magic. At least, that's what Anthony had heard. But, there was a rumour that Potter had done more than that. Some people said he was recruiting for a secret sect to lay dormant until they were needed in the fight against the Dark Lord. 

Maeve had thought it was all lies, but with the discovery of the graffiti, she wondered if there was more truth to the rumour than she'd initially believed. 

*******

After careful research, Maeve had begun brewing her extra credit potion. She'd settled on Veritaserum where Theo had decided on Felix Felicis. They weren't the only ones to spend spare time in the potions classroom, often quietly brewing during Slughorn's teaching of the younger years. 

Theo had immediately begun his brewing as it would take him the full three months to brew the potion, whereas Maeve had carefully researched before starting on hers. It was long winded, but she couldn't help but remember when Anthony and she had spent months on a potion in secret. 

Now  _ that _ would have gotten her an Outstanding. 

Maeve let her head slump against her arms for a moment, letting out a small groan, "I swear this potion is ridiculous." 

When she finally lifted her head, Theo had levelled her with an unimpressed look, "Maeve, if I stir this clockwise instead of counterclockwise it may catch fire." 

"You're right," Maeve squared her shoulders, "I won't let this idiotic potion best me." 

"That's the spirit," Theo said sarcastically under his breath as he completed yet another painstakingly slow quarter-turn of his ladle. 

Maeve's eyes wandered over to Slughorn, who sat behind his desk with his nose to the page of a  _ Plébéien _ fashion magazine. When their class was working on their potions in free time he rarely intervened, claiming he wanted to be surprised by the outcomes. Maeve just thought he was lazy, but she didn't say anything aloud about it. 

The relative silence of the room was broken when the thick oak door slammed open. The Carrow's stood together with matching menacing smiles. Amycus carried a roll of parchment which he glared down his nose at, as he read, "Boot, Corner, Goldstein." 

"What is the meaning of this?!" Slughorn exclaimed, his face going purple, "what gives you the right to interrupt my class?"

"Boot. Corner. Goldstein." Alecto echoed forcefully, glaring at the students in the class, "we are the deputy head of disciplinary action, Horace, we may do as we see fit." 

Terry, Micheal, and Anthony filed out of the class. Maeve felt sick to her stomach as she watched them retreat.

"Do you think Anthony'll be all right," she worried quietly.

"He's been avoiding me since term started," Theo stated bitterly, "Anthony can piss off."

Maeve shot him a disapproving glare, "don't act dense, Nott. Lying doesn't suit you. You know exactly why he's been avoiding us."

Theo had the grace to look at least partially chastised, but he didn't apologize. Though, Maeve hadn't really expected him too. 

"His mother has been declared a muggle," Maeve whispered, "I suppose she'll have had her wand snapped by now." 

Theo squeezed his eyes shut, " _ Maeve _ ," he warned.

She heeded his growl and stared back down at the cloudy liquid that swirled in her cauldron. Her mind wasn't on her potion, it was on Anthony. It was on the increasingly violent Muggle Studies lessons they were forced to attend. It was in the upcoming Defence Against the Dark Arts class that would cover the Cruciatus curse. Amycus had been forgiving enough to space out the Unforgivable's in order to savour them throughout the term. 

Maeve just hoped there wouldn't be a lesson on the Killing curse. Watching a spider die in Moody's classroom had been scarring enough. 

There wasn't anything Maeve could think of that would get Anthony in trouble; he was the perfect student. He never got into fights. He was friends with everyone, even their gloomy group of Slytherins. 

When Potions ended she found herself wandering the halls, looking for any sign of Anthony in his usual haunts. He wasn't at the library. He wasn't in the courtyard. It was possible he'd retreated to the Room of Requirement, but Maeve didn't want to risk checking. 

Deep inside she had the gut feeling he was still with the Carrows. 

Maeve steeled herself and strode across the courtyard to a bench where two familiar figures sat.

Luna Lovegood's dreamy smile lit up when she saw Maeve approach. Ginny Weasley frowned suspiciously. 

"Luna," Maeve forced out the words, she shot Ginny an equally suspicious look, "Weaslette. I just wanted to ask if you'd know why Anthony was taken by the Carrows in Potions."

"Anthony was taken out of class by the Carrow's?" Luna's mouth turned down, "that can't be good."

"I just — " Maeve sighed and rubbed at her eyes, "just let me know if he's all right when you see him next. He isn't talking to me and I just need to know he's okay." 

"Why would we — " Ginny started, but Luna cut her off. 

"Of course. Bye, Maeve."

Maeve turned away from the two girls and stormed off, hunching her shoulders as if she could hide from the odd stares of classmates who'd seen her fraternizing with Potter's girlfriend. 

A particular pair of icy grey eyes nearly pierced her skin with their frostiness, but she refused to meet the glare. Instead, she resigned herself to hiding in her dorm until dinner then doing it all over again.


	24. Chapter 21 | 1997

##  Chapter 21 | 1997

The Carrows had slowly begun insinuating themselves as the disciplinary authority, but their ministrations fell into morally grey quickly. There had been talk of lengthy interrogations in which potions, Legilimency, and abuse were utilized. Anthony had survived his detainment with no visible marks, but every time she looked at him in class or in the halls she felt her heart sink.

Anthony wasn't the only one who repeatedly was pulled from class for arbitrary amounts of time, only to mysteriously return looking pale and downtrodden. Longbottom was the first Maeve noticed with a visible bruise along his cheekbone. He didn't hang his head or hide it though, he walked the halls with a determined gleam in his eyes and his mouth in a grim line. 

It was merely two weeks from the winter holidays, when Maeve wandered in the wrong direction after a particularly gruelling night at the library. She'd had her nose buried in a book describing Occlumency techniques, when she found herself in the presence of the Carrows. 

Alecto had her wand jabbed sharply against the chin of a trembling and crying student, no doubt in their first or second year, while Amycus sneered down at the child. 

She was crying, but no noise came out. Her mouth was open in a soundless whimper. Then Amycus opened his mouth as if he were speaking, but no words came out.

The truth crashed down upon Maeve like the entire Hogwarts Express. They had cast a muffling charm so they could terrorize the student in relative peace. 

A hand came down on her shoulder and yanked her back around the bend. 

"Malfoy!" Maeve let out a little screech of outrage. The first time he'd shoved her into a wall had been one too many; she had no intention of letting him make it a habit. 

"What are you doing?" Malfoy glared down at her as if  _ she _ had been the one to drag him into the darkness. 

"What am  _ I _ doing?" Maeve slapped his hands away, "what are  _ you _ doing? I told you to leave me alone."

"It's hard to ignore your pathetic existence when every time I catch sight of you you're throwing yourself into dangerous situations," Draco rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his messy platinum hair as if she caused him no end of aggravation.

"Why do you care?" Maeve shot back, crossing her arms, "we aren't friends. I hate you and everything you stand for. You're a spoiled, arrogant child with a shrivelled little black heart."

"Please," a smug smirk tugged at his lips, "we're exactly alike and you just won't admit it."

"Don't act as though you know me, Malfoy," Maeve raised her hands to shove Draco, but her emotions had been running high below the surface for weeks and power bubbled through her bloodstream. Draco stumbled back, barely regaining his footing, as an invisible force sent him staggering. The shock and tinge of fear on his face were enough to set off warning bells in Maeve's head. She sent him one last warning glare and strode off. 

It had not been her intention to actually hurt Draco, but her windless magic was unpredictable and she could have done serious damage if she had pushed him in the wrong direction. Guilt ate away at her stomach as she stormed through the halls, head turned down. 

It was late, the halls mostly empty, but as she rounded a sharp corner in the dungeon corridors, there was a yell of warning, before a puff of blooded smoke clouded her vision. Her skin felt as though it was burning off, her eyes watered, and she slammed into the hard stone floor. 

When the smoke cleared, Theo was a few metres away, coughing on his hands and knees. And beside him was a splatter of metallic liquid seeping through the veins in the stone, glass fragments ringing the spill.

"Fuck!" Theo exclaimed as soon as he recovered his senses, his splayed fingers dabbed at the liquid but only succeeded in cutting his fingers on the broken glass.

"What was that?" Maeve heaved out a deep breath, still dizzy from the fumes of the noxious potion. 

Theo let out a loud groan and he sat back on his heels, glaring at the floor, "it  _ was _ my potions assessment."

" _ That _ was the Felix Felicis?" Maeve said in disbelief before the gravity of his statement hit her. They only had another week to finish their assessment. She had just barrelled into her friend so hard she'd caused him to drop months of hard work, "Oh  _ Merlin _ , Theo I'm  _ so _ sorry."

"I knew I should have just left it in class," Theo said in an utterly miserable voice. 

The fact that he wasn't throwing blame at her like Anthony or Daphne would just made it worse. She knew it wasn't entirely her fault, but she'd had a part in the destruction of weeks upon weeks of work. 

Maeve pointed her wand at the patch on the floor, cleaning it of any stains and glass. Then she let out a shaky breath, before standing up and holding out her hand to Theo, "I know how I can help. Come on." 

Theo looked dazed, but he accepted her hand. Maeve led him to a hall just off the main corridor that led to their dormitories, before levelling him with a serious look, "stay right here."

Maeve glanced around, before muttering the password to enter the Slytherin common room. She breezed past the tired-looking students that sat at the couches and tables working on homework and chatting idly with friends. 

Daphne was the only one in the room when Maeve entered, but she wasn't surprised when her friend didn't move under the tangle of sheets she hid under. More and more often she had been secluding herself to their dorms. Theo had mentioned a ridiculous theory that involved Daphne siring the spawn of none other than Severus Snape, but Maeve had just laughed and ignored him. 

The two of them jested, but she knew they were both concerned for their friend. She looked paler by the day and didn't eat much at meals, instead electing to push around the food on her plate until she got bored enough to take a bite. If she came to meals at all, that is. 

Maeve rifled through her bedside drawer, looking for the thick glass phial she'd stashed away days ago after she'd finished. The glass was transparent enough to see the clear, slightly viscous liquid inside. She took a deep breath and exited the dorm and common room the way she'd come. 

She made sure there were no lingering familiar faces when she arrived where she'd left Theo, before pressing the phial into his hand. 

He levelled her with a confused expression, before realization struck and he tried to push it back into her grasp, "no, Maeve, I can't take your — "

"Please, Theo," Maeve pleaded. She wasn't sure why she felt so deeply that she had to help. A desperate part inside of her was adamant she had to do this, "it was my fault."

"Maeve, what about you?" Theo's eyebrows scrunched together. An uncharacteristically worried look crossed his face briefly as he looked down at her, but his hand gripped the phial a little tighter despite himself. 

"I have a backup plan. I'll be fine."

"If you say so."


	25. Chapter 22 | 1997

###  Chapter 22 | 1997

Maeve was slow to pack up her books. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her classmates file out of class. For the first time in a long time, there was lasting excitement lighting up faces at the prospect of returning home the following day for the Christmas holidays. 

Theo gave Maeve a questioning look, but she brushed him off, making something up about asking Slughorn a question about the revision of the Scintillation Solution. She resisted rolling her eyes when Malfoy levelled her with a suspicious look before he exited with Blaise and Goyle on his heels. 

Leaving her things at her station, Maeve slowly approached Slughorn. He had his back facing her as he flicked his wand back and forth to wipe away the lines upon lines of instructions written across the chalkboard. 

"Professor?" Maeve spoke slowly as she felt her palms begin to sweat. 

"Ah!" Slughorn turned to face her and smiled down at her through Gooseberry eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "I was rather shocked when you didn't present your assessment like many of your peers today."

His tone was both vaguely admonishing, while tinged with a shared joke Maeve didn't quite understand. She offered him a nervous laugh to match his chuckle, "that's what I wanted to talk to you ab — "

"I was very clear, I'm afraid," Slughorn wagged his finger in her face, "I cannot offer an extension. Even to one of my Slytherins."

"I wasn't asking for an extension," Maeve said slowly, before glancing at the empty doorway. There was no sign of onlookers, but she wasn't keen on being watched, "I'm afraid my ... erm ...  _ demonstration _ requires a bit of discretion." 

Slughorn's bushy eyebrows lifted and he didn't do well hiding his interest. Maeve knew about his habit of collecting students, though he hadn't bothered with any parties yet that year. She had a feeling the idea of a possible new jewel to add to his collection intrigued him more than he wanted to let on. 

Maeve almost grimaced.

She pointed her wand at the door, wordlessly shutting it gently. Some liked to dramatically slam doors, but she'd never seen the appeal. 

Stepping back, Maeve jumped up onto an empty station, wiggling into a comfortable sitting position at the edge, before she closed her eyes. 

The first time had been unimaginably painful. It had felt as though her bones were breaking, again and again, her skin stretching and tearing. Over the years the pain had lessened greatly, but it felt uncomfortably tight for a brief moment. 

It had taken Anthony much less time to master the change without his wand, but Maeve had never quite gotten there. Though, she had a sneaking suspicion he'd spent hours alone perfecting the change as he did with everything. 

Maeve opened her eyes and faced a grinning Slughorn. He clapped his hands emphatically before he lurched forward to better inspect her, "beautiful! Simply beautiful, Maeve. An  _ Animagus _ , and a beautiful one at that."

The world felt different, larger. It was something she didn't think she'd ever fully get used to. She slowly rose from her haunches, stretching her lithe form and swishing her tail. The strange freedom of hiding beneath an animal's skin had no business feeling as freeing as it did, but Maeve felt a calm she rarely felt wash over her. 

Taking her wand in her maw, Maeve leapt off the table, and trotted in a little circle. It was partially for show, for Slughorn, who stared at her with mouth agape. But it had also been a long while since she'd taken her Animagus form. She cast another wary glance at the thick door, catching sight of her rusted red tail tipped with frosty white. 

Maeve reluctantly squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the change to take hold of her. Every second she spent in her Animagus form felt like another closer to Snape blowing down the door and dragging her back to the Headmaster's office which was  _ his _ now.

It hadn't mattered that she was Slytherin, Maeve knew that he would have had her face the full repercussions of her actions if he learned of Dumbledore's lack of action back in her third year. 

Slughorn's meaty hand clapping her on the shoulder broke her from her thoughts, "I must say I am beyond impressed, Maeve. I never should have doubted a bright witch such as yourself." 

A seed of guilt began to eat away at her stomach as she offered him a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. If she had actually attempted the lengthy process of becoming an Animagus by herself she wasn't sure she'd have been able to manage it. It had been Anthony that had truly done the heavy lifting. It felt as though she was stealing a victory that should have been rightfully his. 

Anthony with the hollow eyes as he wandered the halls after a gruelling 'detention' with the Carrow's, Anthony with the mother who had been declared  _ une Plébéienne _ and cast out, Anthony who was smarter and braver than she'd ever been. 

"You understand why I couldn't exactly demonstrate this in front of the whole class?" Maeve asked sheepishly, "I am not exactly ...  _ uh _ ... "

Slughorn's smile didn't drop, "nonsense, nonsense. It's no bother to me. The Ministry and their  _ rules _ ."

Maeve got the feeling Slughorn had had many run ins with the Ministry of Magic and their supposed ' _ rules _ '. 

"Does that mean I get the Outstanding?" Maeve asked, wanting nothing more than to run from the room. She didn't hate Slughorn by any means, but she felt raw and strange after showing someone the truth after years of hiding Anthony and her secret, only to take credit. 

"My girl, I wish I could give you two!"

Maeve dipped her head in an awkward nod, before edging in the direction of her books, "that's great. I should probably — "

"Of course. Of course! Have a lovely Christmas Maeve," Slughorn gave her a warm smile. 

"You as well," she responded automatically, before swiping her books and hastily exiting. 

Christmas. 

Her shoulders grew heavy at the thought. She'd received an owl from her father asking about her plans, but she'd left it unanswered. She wasn't keen on enduring the silence following the last interaction she'd had with her father on the train. It wasn't as if she didn't know the truth; her parents were Death Eaters. 

But she didn't want to face it, didn't want to accept the repercussions that came with openly admonishing them or agreeing with them. 

After what they'd made her do the summer before sixth year, Maeve had felt a cold stone wedge pierce her heart, dividing her feelings in two. She didn't know where love ended and resentment began.


	26. Chapter 23 | 1997

###  Chapter 23 | 1997

"You  _ do _ know how petty this is?" Pansy quipped as Maeve followed her cousin down the train. 

"I don't want to spend the full holiday with them," Maeve shrugged, "it's not as if they'd even be around anyway. Christmas Eve is more than enough."

Pansy just snorted, "I'll remind you of this when you start complaining about Blaise."

Maeve couldn't help but wrinkle her nose as his name. Pansy had made plans with her boyfriend weeks ago to spend Christmas at her countryside manor house, but Maeve had only decided to tag along that morning. If there were any severely emotionally damaging displays of disgusting affection, Maeve knew it would be her fault. 

"I'll just sequester myself in the library with Theo," Maeve waved her hand flippantly. They entered a compartment that already housed Daphne, Theo, Malfoy, and Goyle. Draco smiled smugly at her and she just shot him a subtle glare. 

Pansy slumped into a seat beside Goyle, her eyes darting to the entrance to the compartment — no doubt looking for Blaise. Maeve slid between Daphne and Theo. Daphne leaned her head against the window, gazing at the whirring landscape. Theo turned to her and elbowed her side, "we're  _ sequestering _ ourselves in the library, are we, Selwyn?"

"But  _ of course, _ " Maeve whacked Theo's hand away as he made a show of comically stretching his arm over her shoulders, "you may not touch, Nott."

Theo laughed, but didn't push further. Instead, he picked up a discarded book in his lap and continued where he'd left off. Pansy, Goyle, and Draco started up some bland conversation about their shared Herbology class. Maeve had never been particularly gifted with plants of mystical origin or not. When the course had been a requirement she'd barely passed.

It was strange to see Draco engaged in pleasant conversation. Especially when the only times she seemed to see him he was actively terrorizing her or others. She sometimes forgot he was just another student like her. 

Pansy laughed when Goyle grumbled something about 'stupid flowers' and Draco cracked a smile as well. When he smiled he didn't look so much like a scheming prat. 

Blaise entered the compartment with an exaggerated sigh, "that bloody Ravenclaw with the messy hair and ridiculous ideas practically accosted me!" He said by way of greeting. 

"Loony is harmless," Pansy laughed as she made room for him, "I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"I'm not!" Blaise frowned, "all I did was politely tell her to get out of the way — "

Maeve couldn't help but roll her eyes, " _ politely _ , Zabini?  _ Really _ ?"

Blaise didn't have a response to that. He just grumbled to himself as Pansy fussed over him. 

Maeve didn't necessarily like Luna overmuch, but she had grown to appreciate the blonde witch when Lovegood had fed her a steady stream of information regarding Anthony since the first time the Carrow's had taken him. 

When Maeve was walking alone to a class or from a meal, Luna always found the perfect opportunity for an update. Although she was in Ravenclaw, Luna didn't receive quite enough credit for her insight. Not to mention her airy personality had somewhat grown on Maeve, but she'd never admit it aloud. 

The train ride was relatively uneventful. Pansy did most of the talking with her friends. Theo read. Maeve found an unfinished transfiguration essay to finish working on. Daphne stayed silent. 

On more than one occasion, Maeve watched Daphne with a growing sense of dread building inside, before sharing a concerned look with Theo. Something had been wrong for a very long time, but they didn't know how to broach the subject without pissing Daphne off in every conceivable way. After being friends with her for so many years, they knew she grew evermore volatile when she was feeling vulnerable. 

They exited the train together, but promptly split up. Daphne trailed off in the direction of her sister, Astoria, with a weak farewell. Goyle disappeared into the crowd. Draco slowly wandered in the direction of his mother who stood out in the crowd. It may have been Maeve's imagination but he looked rather pale and scared. 

She supposed that, if the rumours were true, Malfoy had quite a bit to be scared of at home. It made her grievances with her parents pale in comparison. She could be spending Christmas Eve with the Dark Lord. 

The mere thought made her throat constrict painfully. 

"Come on, Maeve!" Pansy called, already walking towards her mother with Blaise on her arm. 

Theo rolled his eyes, then dramatically presented his elbow, "shall we?"

Laughing, Maeve linked elbows with Theo and the two of them trailed behind the couple. 

"Maeve," Theo murmured, low enough for only her to hear, "I really appreciate what you did."

She didn't have to ask what he meant, but she feigned ignorance, "hmm?"

"Did you just pass over the grade?" He pushed, "did you have some sort of backup?"

"Something like that," Maeve answered noncommittally. 

Theo's lips twitched into a smile, "fine, fine. Keep your secrets,  _ wench _ ."

*******

Theo and Maeve had spent most of their time playing Wizard's Chess while Pansy and Blaise disappeared to do unmentionable things. Pansy's parents were rarely truly around, but when they were they were directing house-elves back and forth to prepare for their Christmas party. 

With said Christmas party looming mere hours away, Theo and Maeve had resigned themselves to another round before the guests began to arrive. 

The Parkinson's Annual Christmas party took place on Christmas Eve and it was an event that was exclusive, while seeming to have a guest list longer each year. 

Theo tugged at the collar of his black dress robes, before instructing his piece and taking her pawn. 

"Is tonight going to be just as boring as I anticipate?" Theo groaned, more to himself than Maeve. 

"I anticipate a tense conversation with my parents I intend to avoid," Maeve mused, lifting a hand and flicking her finger. Her queen crossed the board and took his rook as if pushed by an invisible force, "if you're looking for entertainment, you're welcome to watch when they finally catch me." 

The chess pieces didn't like to be manhandled by Maeve, but it was an excuse to practice her windless magic, so she ignored the pushback she felt. 

"Oh, to have a family," Theo joked darkly. 

"Theo ... " Maeve murmured, but she was at a loss for words. After his father had been ousted and sent to Azkaban at the end of their fifth year he'd been floating around like a lost child. She'd had a feeling that his father had been quietly released from Azkaban like many Death Eaters, but he clearly hadn't. 

"Spare me, Maeve," Theo spat bitterly, "he was stupid enough to gain the scorn of the Ministry  _ and _ the Dark Lord. He was a failure either way."

Maeve flinched back at his sharp words, turning her gaze to her lap where her fingers twisted in the pine green fabric of her dress. Her ears rung at his words and Anthony's words from weeks ago about being on the right or wrong side. 

It was easy to forget Theo's radical views passed down from father to son when he was laughing and making snide remarks. It was easy to forget how deeply she was immersed in what Anthony had called ' _ blood purity nonsense _ ' until one person said one thing and shattered her fantasy of benignity.

  
  



	27. Chapter 24 | 1997

###  Chapter 24 | 1997

"You look lovely," Pansy said with a grin, "trying to impress anyone in particular?"

Maeve didn't miss the pointed look her cousin levelled on Theo, but she pretended to. She had never felt anything other than a sisterly sort of affection for him, and she was certain he felt the exact same way. Instead of entertaining Pansy's matchmaking dreams, Maeve took in her cousin's black dress dotted with magical flashing stars, "I could say the same things to you, Pansy."

Placated by the flattery, Pansy gave a little twirl that fanned out the skirt enchantingly, "I love these stupid parties for the sole reason that I get to dress up."

Maeve grinned to herself, "remember when we were toddlers and we ran about under the tablecloths?" 

"I remember you barely speaking English and us bonding over the innate need to cause trouble," Pansy's eyes glazed with memories of the past and a nostalgic smile spread over her lips. 

The first hour or so of the party Maeve spent in a shadowy corner with Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, trying to subtly mess with Blaise's dress robes without his notice. Guests trickled in slowly, each wearing extravagant evening wear. Some gravitated into groups, some made a beeline to the dance floor and waltzed around the room to the songs played by a self-playing string quartet. 

Parkinson Manor had an impressive ballroom that doubled as a music room when there weren't grandiose parties occurring. The smooth, pale beige floor was glossy with fresh polish under the feet of the guests. The white walls were nearly entirely covered by fluttering gold drapes, fir garlands, and red bows. The ceiling was hidden entirely by the thin strips of golden material that rained down at differing lengths, occasionally spotted with hanging mistletoe and floating candles that emitted far more light than made logical sense. 

Pansy had already dragged Blaise off twice for a rather public snog under hanging mistletoe. 

Tables bearing food were scattered along the sidelines of the space cleared for dancing, as well as tables and chairs for guests to break or catch up with friends. 

Maeve and her friends hid in a corner as far away from both of the entrances to the large room. The large double doors that led directly to the entrance hall and front doors still allowed the odd late coming in. The doors on the opposite side opened and closed as hired waiters and house elves disappeared in and out, presumably to the kitchens. 

Sipping idly at a glass of sparkling wine, Maeve kept her eyes canvassing the room thoroughly. She had a strict plan to follow if she was to succeed in minimal contact with her parents. It felt silly, but her festering feelings towards them had only grown and she wanted nothing more than to avoid them until she could speak with a clear mind. 

She didn't know what to say to them, in truth. There was nothing she  _ could _ say that wouldn't involve her in the worldly conflict at some level. That scared her. 

"Malfoy looks horrible."

Maeve glanced in the direction of the whisper. She had thought it was one of her friends, but it was actually a pair of wizards around her parents' age. One had a thick, but well-groomed black beard, the other had slicked-back dark hair. 

Turning to the door that led to the entrance hall, Maeve caught sight of what they had meant. The two hadn't been poking fun at Draco, who walked between his parents, but Lucius Malfoy. He had a shadow along his jaw from lack of attention and purple smudges beneath his eyes. In short, he looked nothing like the all-powerful man he had seemed to be years ago in the daily prophet and the odd time she'd caught a glance at him at the train station. 

Out of habit, Maeve's eyes darted to Draco. He had his nose held high, and his eyes were narrowed to slits as he glared at the guests who dared to stare at him and his family. He had gained an unhealthy looking pallor after mere days after returning home. 

Aside from that, however, he looked just as he did wandering the halls of Hogwarts. 

Narcissa hadn't changed a hair on her head since Maeve had seen her at Diagon Alley. She couldn't help but respect the woman. Narcissa Malfoy was made of tougher stuff than she appeared to.

Maeve broke her gaze from the family and turned back into the idle conversation her friends had been engaged in for quite some time. It had turned into more of an argument at some point, but she couldn't recall exactly when. 

Pansy took a threatening step towards Theo, "All that I am saying,  _ Theo _ , is that — "

Heart jumping to her throat, Maeve threw back the remainder of the sparkling wine in her glass and dropped it on a tray of a passing waiter. 

Her parents had arrived. 

"Have to dash," she murmured to her friends half-heartedly. She expected they wouldn't notice her absence until they had well and truly settled their debate. 

As she had been before, her parents' eyes canvassed the room. No doubt Pansy's parents had informed them of her being a stowaway. They were looking for her. 

Angelica Selwyn was clad in a black dress that matched her father's dark dress robes. It reminded Maeve of the Death Eater's robes she'd seen them wearing. 

Catching sight of a familiar figure, Maeve darted forward and slid beside Crabbe and Goyle, "well, hello boys. Would one of you care to dance?"

The two exchanged looks that either meant they were surprised or disgusted at the prospect. Her confusion was remedied when Goyle took her hand in his meaty one and he steered her toward the centre of the room. 

The music was fast-paced, and Goyle was a surprisingly agile dancer. He twirled her around more than necessary, making her dizzy, but it was a pleasant distraction. The two were laughing by the time they came to a stop as the music ended. 

Goyle bowed mockingly, "a pleasure."

Maeve curtsied, "'twas all mine."

Then, she caught sight of her father. Their eyes locked and he began striding towards her. She smiled apologetically at Goyle and slipped into the dancers that stood idle as they waited for the next song to begin. 

Wearing green to a Christmas party that had a guest list dominated by those who had attended Hogwarts as Slytherins turned out to be perfect camouflage. Half of the guest-list wore some shade of green or other. 

Finally breaking free from those standing on the dance floor, Maeve looked around for her next possible hiding spot. The exit was looking rather appealing, but just as the thought crossed her mind, her mother appeared. She joined Narcissa and Lena Flint in conversation right at the mouth of the entrance hall.

"Ah," Maeve sucked at her teeth. She felt utterly trapped, " _ putain _ ."

Catching sight of a shock of platinum hair, Maeve steeled herself for what she had to do next. She approached Draco slowly, as if he were a feral animal. He stood alone at the edge of the dance floor. He clearly hadn't caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle, or Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, yet.

"Malfoy," she offered by way of greeting.

"I distinctly remember you telling me on numerous occasions to piss off," he mused, looking down at her hands as he twisted a silver signet ring stamped with a rearing snake. His expression was one of forced indifference. 

"This just happens to be one where I don't," there was silence for a moment before she felt the need to break the silence. She didn't want him to strand her alone with her father looking for her. Ragnor was far less likely to bother her with private family matters if she seemed to be engaged in a conversation with someone not close to the family. With Pansy and Theo, she had a feeling he would have simply started speaking regardless of whether her friends were present, "how has ...  _ uh _ ... how has your break been so far?"

The poor attempt at small talk actually succeeded in garnering a laugh from Draco that she'd thought was him choking at first, "far worse than yours, I assume."

"Presumptuous of you."

Draco levelled her with a placid smile, "my house is no longer my home. You've been here with your cousin and friends. As horrible as Blaise and Pansy are, I reckon I win. I have seen death in the halls of Malfoy Manor, the home where I learned how to ride a broom."

Maeve almost winced at his words. His honesty frightened her in a way. She'd never been close with Draco. He had no reason to air his inner thoughts to her, "why are you telling me this?"

He smirked down at her in a way she'd seen him do for years. He looked like he thought himself the smartest wizard in the room, "who could you tell that would believe you?"

"I haven't truly spoken to my parents since the vow," Maeve glanced down at her hand absently, traced the faint lines with her finger, "I know they will want to talk, to explain. But I don't want to speak to them because it makes everything real. I don't want to choose a side in this war."

She caught his eyes widen. He hadn't expected her to match his confession. 

"Treasonous of you to say, some would say."

" _ But who could you tell that would believe you _ ?" Maeve forced a smile as she parroted his words, "people are perfectly happy to believe I am whatever they think I am."

"Huh," Draco shook his head and smiled to himself, before he extended a hand to her, "shall we dance?"

Maeve stared at his hand, his long, slim fingers, the pale silver band of his ring. It was so foreign. Malfoy had been nothing but a nuisance to avoid for years and he was offering his hand to her to dance. 

"Before you answer," Draco drawled, "I think you should consider your father, who finally spotted you, coming this way. Not to mention the fact that we've been standing under mistletoe for the past few minutes and I don't plan on kissing you, if that's what you're truly after."

Maeve more bared her teeth at him than smiled as she took his hand, " _ si je pouvais, je voudrais te tuer. _ "

Draco just gave her a questioning look as he led her to the dance floor. Just as they arrived a new song started. He slid his hand to her waist, pulling her closer to him as she leaned back. He rolled his eyes, " _ please _ . You act as if dancing with me is a punishment. I'm a fine dancer."

She didn't respond until they had gotten into the swing of the song, "believe me,  _ it is _ ."

In all honesty, Goyle had been a better dancer. Draco was a fine dancer, but just fine. He followed the steps around the floor, but there was no liveliness. He was just following the instructions laid out. Maeve spent most of the dance gazing over his shoulder on the lookout for her father.

When the song came to an end, she stepped away from him quickly. They'd made ground around the room and she was only a few metres from the set of doors the house-elves were using to bring out refreshed plates of bite-sized cakes. When she turned her head back to look at Draco she caught his eyes turning from where she'd been looking to meet her eyes as well. 

So, it had been his idea all along. 

"Well," Maeve narrowed her eyes at him, "perhaps you aren't as useless as I thought."

"What a glowing compliment," Draco quipped back, running a hand through his hair and causing a thick chunk to fall into his eyes, "I would say the same, but I find my good mood is running out the longer I look at you."

Maeve moved her hand without thinking, flicking her finger a few feet from his face. The hair smoothed back to its previous position. Though it had been a stupid and reckless accident, his shocked expression had been somewhat worth it. 

"Do try not to die before the break is over, Draco," Maeve called over her shoulder as she made to duck out of the ballroom. 

She heard his response just before the door shut behind her, leaving her in muffled silence. 

"You as well."

Her stomach twisted. Because in the turbulent times they lived in, it was a real possibility.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Si je pouvais, je voudrais te tuer - If I could kill you I would.  
> I don't normally put translations but this one isn't really obvious with context so ...


	28. Chapter 25 | 1998

###  Chapter 25 | 1998

The first few days after returning from Christmas break at the Parkinson manor, everything had seemed as it were before. But, it didn't take long for Maeve to begin to see the differences. 

The first few months of term hadn't been especially sunny, but the faces of her peers had darkened in their time away from Hogwarts. Maeve had spent her holidays complaining about Pansy and Blaise's disgusting relationship while some families had been fearing for their lives. 

Maeve stopped in the middle of the busy hallway, stepping aside as she felt every internal organ constricting painfully with guilt. When she lifted her head, she caught sight of a trio walking down the hallway with pale, grief-stricken faces. Longbottom, Weasley, and Anthony. 

There was no Luna.

In a moment of panic, Maeve thought back through the past few days, wracking her mind for glimpses of the strange Ravenclaw. 

Her heart stuttered to a stop, but her feet moved of their own accord as her focus split between not wanting the particular brand of horrible detention Amycus Carrow bestowed, and the blonde-haired Ravenclaw who was only a year younger than her and gone within the space of two weeks. 

Throughout Amycus Carrow's in-depth explanation of Fiendfyre and its many uses, Maeve found herself staring at a point just above the Carrow's head. She turned the page in her textbook when prompted, glanced at the chalkboard when told, and stared blankly at the page when they were told to read themselves the difficult casting process. She was thinking about Lovegood, a witch she barely knew and would barely consider more than an acquaintance, and how deeply Luna's disappearance bothered her. 

Maeve's thoughts drifted to the previous school year and the unwitting hand she'd had in the death of Albus Dumbledore. She thought of her parents and their allegiance to the Dark Lord. She wondered if, like with Dumbledore, she shared blame for anything that happened to Luna.

With every day that passed, it felt as though her parents and their choices fell back onto Maeve. She felt stifled by every expectation placed upon her. Even thinking about anything other than the nothingness of the present made Maeve's guts tighten and throat constrict. 

"Rivers, Oliver," Amycus' voice broke Maeve from her spiral, but she felt her breathing shallow as she caught sight of his excited expression. He rolled up the parchment he'd read the name from and smiled expectantly at the Hufflepuff boy who was practically quivering in his seat. When Oliver didn't make a move to stand, Amycus' eyes slanted to slits and he yelled, "up, boy!"

There was a sharp knock on the door, before the second of the pair arrived in the classroom, dragging a first-year Gryffindor boy by the back of his robes. Alecto was an immovable force as the young wizard kicked and swore at her. She came to a stop beside her brother, before tossing the first year to the side like a sack of potatoes and training her wand on him. 

Maeve noticed a thin drip of blood falling from his left nostril. The boy just wiped at his face angrily and glared at the Carrows. Despite his position, he did anything but cower. 

"Rivers!" Amycus strode between desks, his robes whipping by Maeve by mere inches. She couldn't help but flinch in the opposite direction. As his sister had, Amycus clapped a meaty hand on her classmate's shoulder and wrestled Oliver to standing, "come now, boy."

"I - " Oliver's voice cracked. His big blue eyes were watery with unshed tears, but he squared his shoulders and levelled a withering look at the Dark Arts professor, "I won't."

"You won't?" Amycus said so softly his whisper was barely legible, before he shouted directly into the Hufflepuff's face, "you  _ won't _ ?!"

There had been few who had flat out refused before. When the Carrows had begun the practice of weekly practice on students with detention, there had been confusion and horror, but the alternative was just as unsavoury. 

And survival instinct usually won out.

Amycus dragged Oliver to the front of the class and let go of him a few metres away from the first year, "last chance, Rivers."

Oliver shook his head firmly, but his lower lip, as well as his hands, were shaking. 

Maeve caught sight of Amycus' curled lip and the rage on his face before she let her eyes close to the scene and all she heard was a shrill ' _ crucio _ !', followed by the screams of her classmate. Breathing heavily through her nose, she remembered the high screams of Lavender Brown when she'd refused, the stoic silence Neville Longbottom had stood in as his face contorted in pain and he sunk to the floor, Pavarti's heaving sobs.

The exercise was one of principal because, in truth, a curse made by a student against another was far less likely to hold a great effect. But the Carrows were experts in torture. The intention of the Cruciatus curse is what made it so painful, and they had the most nefarious of intentions. 

It took all of Maeve's will to remain still and not clap her hands over her ears. Forcing her eyes open, she stared numbly at Oliver, where he twitched on the cold stone floor.

"Class dismissed," Amycus spat into the silence that was only broken by Oliver's whimpers. 

The entire class was frozen for a moment, before students scrambled for their books to flee the room. Maeve's gaze was trained on Oliver as she pulled her books into her arms, but two Ravenclaw girls scurried to the front of the class to allow him to wrap his arms around their shoulders as they practically dragged him from the room. 

Maeve had no idea where Theo had disappeared to, and Daphne rarely came to the Dark Arts class. She found that she didn't much care about their disappearing act. She made it all of a hundred metres before she ducked into a side corridor and backed around a corner, letting her back fall against the wall. 

She took in great heaving breaths. Tears stung at her eyes and she rolled her body to press her forehead against the cool stone. Rage was like liquid ice trickling through her veins. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was pounding her fist into the uneven wall as hard as she could. She felt her skin tear, bones click, and warm blood pool, but she didn't care. 

"Why are you running off like a — " a snide voice called around the corner, before Malfoy appeared in the corner of her vision. Maeve didn't even have the energy to hide what she'd done or acknowledge his presence. He let out a slow breath through his teeth, " _ Merlin _ , Selwyn."

"Go away," her voice didn't sound like her own. Her throat felt raw and her words came out dark and low. 

"What the hell are you even doing?" He said instead of acknowledging her words. Draco skirted her to take hold of the fist that was still pressed against the rough wall gingerly. 

"Don't touch me!" Maeve tore her hand away from him and finally turned her full gaze on him, "stop pretending like you're here for any other reason than to mock and laugh at me."

He rolled his eyes and snatched her hand from the air, "I'm not here to — "

"Oh really?" Maeve squeezed his fingers as hard as she could and tugged him closer to meet his gaze with a glare, "then why exactly are you here? You always seem to be there when I least want you around." 

"Because," he said through gritted teeth, " _ you're like me _ ."

"I'm nothing like you."

"You're exactly like me."

For a silent moment, the two just stared at each other, invisibly battling wills to see who would break first. 

Draco's eyes bored through hers as he spoke, "You want to just do what everyone says you should, but the guilt is eating away at you. No choice feels like the right choice. The world disgusts you."

" _ You _ disgust me," Maeve fired back, "and you're  _ wrong _ . I  _ don't _ want to be what people think I should be. I  _ know _ the right choices, but I can't make them. The world  _ hurts _ me."

Malfoy blinked and took a small step backward, releasing her hand. For a brief moment, true pain twisted his features and he looked inexplicably young. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he spat, but there was no strength in his words. They were an automatic defence. 

But was he right?

Draco left the way he'd come without another word, her blood staining his fingers and silver signet ring.


	29. Chapter 26 | 1998

###  Chapter 26 | 1998

"Selwyn, Maeve," Amycus Carrow's voice was cold but his face as delighted as it was when there was the option to torture children. It had been a week since Alecto had found some poor student to subject to her brother, but the time had come. 

Ever since the whole business had started, Maeve had been going over what she would do when her name was called, but everything felt so very real. She'd had moments where she fancied herself a hero, refusing to perform as others had, but the thought of the torture she'd face kept them from being more than utter fantasy. 

On wobbling knees, she stood and walked slowly to the front of the class. The look on Amycus' face was enough to send her stomach revolting against her. She turned her gaze lower to avoid his malicious smile, but she just met Anthony's disappointed blue eyes as she passed his seat in the front row. She felt nothing but shame. 

Daphne looked bored and Theo looked almost pitiful, but aside from that, there was no admonishment on her friends' faces like there had been on Anthony's. It made it worse. Pansy wasn't in Dark Arts, but Blaise sat next to Draco with a mildly interested smirk dancing across his lips. Draco's face was blank. He hadn't tried to talk to her since she'd spit the most hurtful words she could think of at him. She almost felt bad about it. 

All thoughts fled her mind when the sharp knock sounded on the door and it was thrown open. Alecto Carrow was leading none other than Neville Longbottom himself through the desks. Maeve hadn't even noticed his absence from class, and the next thing she knew he was spouting blasphemies against the Dark Lord as he was manhandled towards her. 

Maeve had never wished anything but mild embarrassment on her peer, and she was being asked to torture him in front of an entire class. 

Neville was thrown to the floor in front of her. He scrambled to his feet and faced her as if they were about to engage in a physical brawl. His face was hard, but his eyes betrayed his memory of the pain he'd endured at the hand of Amycus. 

Before she could overthink things or allow herself to stew in guilt and shame, Maeve pointed her wand at Neville. Her words were clear and without stutter despite her toiling emotions as she spoke, " _ crucio _ ."

There was no flashing light or whizzing sound. Nevill simply flew a metre backward before falling onto the floor in a tangle. He was on his feet and surging forward before Maeve could even process what had happened. 

Alecto hit him with a spell that entrapped him with black ropes and instinctively Maeve took a small step forward. She quickly stumbled backwards after realizing her mistake. She wanted the Carrows to have no reason at all to think she required punishment as well. 

She turned her head and sought out Anthony's face. He just looked shocked. There was no anger or emotion at all.

A hand clapped on her shoulder and Amycus shook her a little roughly, "a wonderful first attempt! Class is dismissed."

Maeve couldn't flee fast enough. She spent nearly half an hour tipped over the bowl of a toilet, waiting to retch up all of the awfulness inside, but nothing came out. Tears dribbled down her cheeks as the frustration hit her in blistering waves. She was angry that she wasn't racked with enough guilt to physically show for it. 

She'd heard people come and go over the rushing white noise in her ears, but when she exited the stall the bathroom was empty and quiet. The cool water she splashed on her face was enough of a shock to her system that it broke her from her semi-catatonic state. 

Over her shoulder, a glistening spectre appeared. Thick glasses, pigtails, and a terrible attitude. Moaning Myrtle floated up from one of the stalls, before gliding down to rest a few feet away from Maeve. She laughed an irritatingly high-pitched girlish laugh, before taunting, "weeping Slytherin in the girls' toilets! Slithering snake weeps crocodile tears!"

"Oh, go cry in the U bend!" Maeve hissed, eyes slit as she glared at the reflection of the ghost in the mirror.

When she exited the girls' washroom the first thing she saw was Anthony and Terry boot sat up against the wall near the door that led to Alecto Carrow's office. The two Ravenclaws had their heads together as they murmured quietly to each other. In the opposite direction, another figure leaned against the wall only a few metres from the toilets. 

Daphne. 

She looked pale as ever, eyes glazed as she stared off into the distance. But she had waited. Maeve had not expected Daphne to bother. In fact, Maeve had expected Daphne to hole up in their dorm hidden from all forms of sunlight. 

Taking a deep breath, Maeve turned towards Anthony and slowly approached the two. Terry noticed her first, but he didn't sneer at her or throw up rude gestures. He just stared at her apprehensively, after nudging Anthony gently with his elbow. 

Anthony didn't look very pleased to see her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Maeve blurted, "is Luna all right?"

"What?" Anthony frowned at her.

"She didn't return from — " Maeve shook her head. It had been a horrible idea to approach him. Anthony wanted nothing to do with her. He'd already made that crystal clear, "I'm sorry, never mind."

Maeve turned and made to leave, but froze when she heard Anthony's words, "she was taken over the break."

"I'm sorry," was all Maeve could manage. She didn't turn around. 

Daphne watched her with a curious gaze until Maeve was close enough for her to speak to without the two boys overhearing, "what was that about?"

"Nothing," Maeve grumbled miserably. 

"Fine," Daphne shrugged, and started walking in the direction of the library where they'd been spending a lot of time due to the cold. They walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again, "I didn't expect you to actually do it."

Closing her eyes for a moment in a vain attempt to assuage her nausea, Maeve sighed, "oh?"

"Mmm," from a quick glance, Maeve could tell Daphne wasn't really thinking, she was just speaking the thoughts that came to her mind as soon as they appeared, "whether it be you just being too scared, or extremely brave is still up for debate." 

The words were dull in comparison to some of the unintentionally scathing things Daphne had said over the years, but the grain of truth in her words grated against Maeve. She'd thought about being brave and refusing, and she'd thought about crying and screaming that she wouldn't because she was too scared. 

"You did," Maeve noted. 

Daphne, in fact, had. It had been about a month or two, but the image of Daphne pointing her wand at the girl who couldn't have been more than in her third year of school. The third-year had instantly fallen to the ground and spasmed once, before beginning to let out heaving sobs. Daphne had looked shocked that the spell had even worked. 

"I did." 

They were silent after that. Maeve considered lying and saying she had a headache as an excuse to hide away in their dorm, but that just invited the possibility of Pansy, Millicent, or Daphne showing up anyway. 

So Maeve trailed Daphne to the library. They wove through the familiar stacks, catching sight of the odd grouping of students, but they found their friends lazing about at a round table in the back near the  _ previously _ restricted section. Theo, Blaise, Pansy, and Goyle were all engaged in a heated whispered debate. 

In the centre of the table stood a familiar thick glass phial. 

Veritaserum.  _ Her _ Veritaserum.


	30. Chapter 27 | 1998

###  Chapter 27 | 1998

" _ Merlin _ ," Daphne groaned as she slumped roughly into a sturdy wooden chair, "what's this?"

" _ Veritaserum _ ," Theo and Maeve chorused. 

" _ But _ ," Maeve took a careful look at her friends, "why doesn't Slughorn have it?" 

"Oh, he let me keep it," Theo said with a placating wave of his hand, "we were just deciding whether we should take it,  _ or _ use it on someone else." 

"I want no part in this," Pansy said, crossing her arms. She glared at her boyfriend with angry brown eyes, but Blaise didn't flinch. He smirked and poked her nose in a way one could describe as either affectionate or condescending. Maybe both. 

"I am not interested," Daphne sniffed delicately, "why would I want to know anything about you lot?"

"Exactly," Theo said with a wide sweep of his arms, "what could possibly go wrong?" 

Maeve stared at him feeling a growing sense of dread, "quite a few — "

Theo poured a few drops into his hand and licked them off, before handing the phial off to Goyle who followed suit. 

" _ Mon Dieu _ ," Maeve stared at the boys as they willingly partook, "that's disgusting, what you just did." 

Pansy glanced at Daphne, then Blaise, then she joined them. 

"Come on, Maeve," Pansy pushed, "it'll be fun." 

Maeve doubted it would be anything but a bother. Only, with four pairs of eyes trained on her, she took hold of the cool glass phial and inspected it. There was a small amount left, enough for two doses, she wagered. 

"Oh, fine," Daphne took the phial from her hand and threw back half of the remaining liquid. 

"Come on," Goyle grinned at her, "are you scared?"

She didn't know what possessed her, but Maeve snatched the potion from Daphne and drank the rest. 

"I don't feel anything," Theo mused, before turning to Blaise, "ask me anything."

"Do you find Weaslette pretty?" Blaise asked, his lips turning up at the sides.

" _ Yes _ ," Theo responded automatically, before slapping a hand over her mouth and staring at the rest of the table with wide eyes. 

Pansy sniggered, "Blaise, do  _ you _ find her pretty?"

Blaise managed to look partially aloof, "in some ways," he answered, before adding, "but, yes." 

"Wow," Daphne snorted, "truly the juiciest of secrets. I could admit Ginny Weasley is pretty enough without the help of a potion."

"You want us to spill secrets?" Theo asked, the wicked gleam Maeve hadn't seen reflect in his eyes in a long time appearing. It made her uneasy. He opened his mouth to innocently question, "why have you been skipping classes and meals and spending all your time holed up in your dorm, hmm? Are you _ lunar-ly disinclined _ ?"

"No," Daphne said, looking affronted, "our family was cursed centuries ago with a  _ blood malediction _ that resurfaces in descendants. I'm slowly dying." 

The entire table went still. Even Blaise wasn't able to hide his shock. 

Strange laughter bubbled up in Maeve's throat and, before she could stop herself, she began to giggle quietly. Every gaze turned to her. Maeve's eyes watered painfully, "I'm sorry! — " another peal of laughter, " — it's not funny. I swear, I just — " she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle herself for a moment, "out of all of us, you've preached the importance of blood purity the most, but it's your stupid blood that's — "

Daphne rolled her eyes, but a wry, self-deprecating smile tugged at her lips, "the irony isn't lost on me."

Everyone relaxed fractionally. 

"Maeve," Daphne turned sharp eyes on her friend, "are you in love with Draco Malfoy?"

The remnants of awkward humour died inside Maeve, "what? No."

"Huh," Daphne shrugged innocently, "I just thought after I saw the two of you together having a row I'd caught you in a lover's spat."

"Not at all," Maeve said firmly. 

"What were you fighting about with Malfoy?" Pansy's interest was palpable. 

Maeve felt her heart accelerate in her chest, the weight of the curious gazes upon her like a tonne of rocks. She also wasn't ignorant of Goyle listening intently. He was closer with Draco than any of them, and it wouldn't surprise her if he reported back to his master dutifully. 

"I - " she broke off, fighting the words that threatened to tumble from her throat. All she managed was, "which time?"

All thoughts cleared her mind at once at her stupidity. If once could read her mind all it would have been was ' _ fuck _ ' in a continuous yell. 

"The first time, I suppose," Blaise cut in when everyone else seemed at a loss.

"He thought I was following him around and collecting information on him, for what I don't know."

"Oh," Blaise blew out a disinterested breath, "the second time?"

"I just got mad about the first time and told him to leave me alone," Maeve felt the words torn from her throat. She felt stripped naked before her friends' eyes as they watched interestedly at her discomfort. 

"This is boring," Pansy rolled her eyes, "I thought it'd be much more interesting than that. Theo - "

Maeve's chair squeaked loudly as she found herself standing without remembering moving. Her friends stared at her with confused faces, "this wasn't a good idea. I don't want to be a part of this anymore."

She left before they had the chance to ask after her. No one followed her as she fled from the library. 

Breathing heavily, Maeve took the least-travelled paths to the dungeons, ducking into side corridors whenever she heard the tell-tale signs of approaching students or teachers. The portraits that still hung on the walls watched her as if she were some sort of strange insect, some whispered to each other low enough for her to be unable to hear. 

She didn't much care what a painting had to say about her. 

Everything was wrong. Hogwarts had been a safe-haven for so long. Every step she took was uncertain, she found herself glancing over her shoulder at every turn, she spent nights crying herself to sleep silently, she was afraid to attend classes as well as to skip them. 

Her friends were both the same and different. Maeve couldn't tell if they were intentionally being cruel, or if they had lost any unshakable definition of morality and decency. What had been petty fun and pride had turned bitter. It was all around in every student, but it hurt to watch the wonder of Hogwarts decay and crumble around her shoulders. 

The next corner she rounded, she came face-to-face with someone she always seemed to find when she was at her lowest. 

Draco looked tired. He had bags under his eyes and his hair drooped like limp straw. Something about the picture reminded Maeve of how he'd slowly fallen apart during their sixth year. 

"Selwyn," he said snidely, but his face remained mostly blank of anything but exhaustion, "it's almost like you've been following me all along. I thought you hated me? Told me to piss right off."

"I don't hate you. I find you perfidious and proud and you have a tendency to be an utter prick, but I don't hate you," the words flowed from her like vomit. She almost threw a hand against her mouth as Theo had. 

"Could have fooled me. The relentless admonishment of my character and insistence that you despise me painted quite the picture."

"I only said that because I'm scared that you're right."

Maeve really did throw a hand over her mouth then. Draco raised both eyebrows at her and a small smile tugged at his lips, "is that so, what are you so afraid I'm right about?"

"That I'm like you," the tips of Maeve's fingers brushed her lips as she spoke, proving she was in fact speaking. But it felt as though her thoughts were simply appearing into the air, "you almost killed someone because of who and what you are. I wonder if that could have been me in a different world. I wonder if I would have actually done it. I fear myself."

There was a long silence in which Draco just stared at her in utter shock. When he finally spoke, his eyes were squinted slightly in suspicion and he lifted a hand to Maeve's forehead, "what's wrong with you? You aren't right in the head."

"We took Veritaserum in the library."

Draco took a hasty step back at her words as if her spewing of truth could infect him, "I see."

"I should go before I explain my deepest fear of — " Maeve slapped a hand over her mouth hard. She felt actual tears well in her eyes. She met Draco's eyes pleadingly.

A flash of actual empathy passed over his face, "I'll see you later, Maeve."

As he speedily walked away, Maeve watched his retreating figure with one thought rolling around in her mind. 

She couldn't remember him ever calling her by her first name before.


	31. Chapter 28 | 1998

###  Chapter 28 | 1998

It had been Maeve's intention to ignore her friends entirely after the Veritaserum debacle, but she only lasted a few miserable weeks before she realized it was a lost cause. She'd been angry at herself most of all for allowing them to influence her, but without the pleasant distraction of friends, Hogwarts was darker than ever. 

With every day that ticked by, it felt like everything pitched further into insurmountable darkness. Just when Maeve thought things couldn't get worse, they would. Classes grew smaller in size as students assigned detention disappeared for days at a time. She could barely walk the less travelled hallways without finding a first-year huddled up in a corner crying their eyes out. 

The demonstrations in the Dark Arts classroom became increasingly stomach-turning, the lectures in Muggle Studies more emphatic in their propaganda. In a class, Maeve had felt progressively more uncomfortable as Alecto Carrow had described how truly dirty non-magical peoples were. 

Maeve had never imagined her future involving muggles, but she saw the horrified faces of her peers that were of muggle descent and she was well-aware of the mistruths but their reactions alone. 

Her parents had been adamant in their opinions on blood purity, but Maeve had been brought up on differing principals than many of her friends. She'd thought they'd been more alike than they were. 

Ragnor and Angelica Selwyn had firmly believed in the insurmountable differences between  _ Les Plébéiens _ and magical people, thinking that they were too different to truly belong side-by-side. But they had still considered those of non-magical origin as living, breathing beings. The way the Carrow's spoke, it was as if they thought of muggles as an almost subhuman, deprived species. 

It made Maeve wonder if her parents had hidden their true beliefs in an attempt to blend in when the Dark Lord was lost. Every day, she wondered if more and more aspects of her life had been built upon lies. 

Her father wrote to her nearly every week asking after school. Every letter was innocent enough, similar to those she received throughout her years at Hogwarts, but it felt disingenuous. He was still her father, but Maeve couldn't separate the Death Eater who killed, with the man who had raised her and loved her from the first moment he'd seen her. 

_ Mon Coeur _ . My heart. If she'd truly been his heart, he would have taken her back to France the moment there were whispers of the Dark Lord's return. Maeve and her mother had always had their differences, but for as long as she could remember, her father had put her first in every way. She'd truly felt his love. 

Clenching her hand until it hurt, Maeve's eyes dipped to her tight grip on her quill. The red lines standing out on pale skin. She remembered her father's quiet confirmation that it had been the right thing to do. 

"Maeve?"

Broken from her thoughts, she glanced up to meet Theo's quizzical gaze. She sighed, before rubbing at her tired eyes, "I'm sorry?"

"It's a fortnight, right?" He asked, his tone alluding to the fact that he'd asked the question multiple times while she'd been lost in thought. When Maeve just stared at him blankly, he rolled his eyes, but a good-natured smile tugged at his lips, "the eye of newt, Maeve."

"Oh!" Maeve's eyes dipped back to the parchment she'd been copying her notes upon in preparation for the upcoming potions examination, " _ yes _ , a fortnight." 

"Maeve ... " Theo looked uncomfortable. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his dark, overgrown curls mussing over his fingers. 

Theo had never been one to start difficult conversations. He simply shut down whenever he was required to feel something other than smug amusement, so Maeve assumed he was about to ask her for some ridiculous favour or other. She began writing again, not looking up when she said, "hmm?" 

"I ... uh — " His voice was slow and he cut himself off before he could even begin. Maeve turned her gaze up, watching his mouth work as he struggled to come up with words, "I'm ...  _ sorry _ ."

Maeve's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She could barely remember a time Theo had apologized for anything. As a young boy, he'd been sure the world revolved around him and as he grew older he simply had stopped caring about those around him aside from his inner circle, "for what?"

"For everything, I suppose," Theo sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I shouldn't have given the other's the chance with the Veritaserum. You were clearly upset. Well, you've been upset since the summer. Anthony used to be there for you in ways the rest of us couldn't. I don't think anyone else sees it, but I've seen how lately — "

He hung his head in shame and broke off. 

Maeve felt a tingle run down her spine in shock. Theo was right. Anthony had been supportive in ways her friends in Slytherin were practically incapable, but it stung her heart to see Theo's discomfort and shame at being unable to help. In truth, she'd never had such expectations for her friends. She could see they were all floundering in their own ways, they just seemed to have their own ways of dealing. 

"Theo," Maeve put her hand on Theo's shoulder in a manner she hoped was comforting, "I understand. Thank you. I know since everything happened with your father you've had your own problems to deal with."

The red rims of Theo's eyes shocked Maeve when he slowly raised his head. Unshed tears shone in his eyes that he was desperately trying to blink away. Taking a quick look around their quiet nook in the back of the library to make sure they were still alone, Maeve scooted her chair closer to Theo, leaning her head forward to press their foreheads together. 

Theo let out a shuddering breath, "Maeve, what are we going to do? Everything is so  _ awful _ .  _ I _ feel so awful  _ all _ of the time. I don't want to  _ be _ awful."

Maeve let her hand travel to Theo's head, she rhythmically ran her fingers through his hair, keeping her eyes squeezed close. She could feel his body trembling and she was sure she was shaking as well, "we have to get through this Theo. The best possible thing we can do is survive. We survive and we do better. We have to  _ be _ better." 

A laugh rattled from Theo's chest and he brought his hand to the back of her head, squeezing for a moment, "the  _ best _ of the best."

"Of course."

Then he pulled away and turned his head to the side. Maeve let him have a moment to compose himself. She doubted he had enjoyed the moment of pure vulnerability. Theo's armour had cracked for the briefest of moments and it had nearly shattered Maeve. She'd been so caught up on herself, it had been impossible to see the suffering under the surface in those around her. It was easy to dismiss their pain because it felt so wholly and completely her own. 

But she wasn't alone at Hogwarts.


	32. Chapter 29 | 1998

###  Chapter 29 | 1998

Maeve and Daphne hurried from the Muggle Studies classroom as if they had been lit on fire. Daphne's usual pallor had turned slightly green. For the first time since she'd learned of Daphne's illness, she wondered if her friend's declining health was in part due to the stresses imposed onto the students at Hogwarts. 

Maeve wasn't knowledgeable in family curses, but it seemed rational for a weakness of mind and body to make way for the inevitable. 

It was  _ bizarre _ to even think of the death of a witch she'd known since she was eleven, but Daphne had been rather unceremonious with the facts. Daphne would die sooner rather than later. Maeve had a feeling it would be slow, though. It seemed every day her friend grew more fatigued, but then she would have a week where she was almost just as she had been years ago. 

"I think I'm going to be ill," Daphne murmured, before darting in the direction of the girls' toilets. 

Maeve thought about following her friend, but she was distracted when she caught sight of a familiar blonde hastily walking in the opposite direction. She hadn't seen much of Draco Malfoy in weeks aside from the odd shared glance in class, but at that moment, she felt a tug of guilt in her stomach. 

Acting on impulse, Maeve steeled herself and began to trudge after him. It was probably blatantly stupid to chase after someone who had viciously accused her of following him in the past, but she didn't care. 

As much as it had seemed malicious at times, Draco had stumbled upon her more than once when she'd been spiralling through her mind to the point of queasiness and accidentally intervened. It was strange to feel partially indebted to such an arrogant person, but whenever she'd caught a glance at him for weeks she'd been feeling a tug of guilt in her stomach. 

Draco Malfoy had been suffocating in the world around him since he'd been tasked with the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Maeve knew because she had been since she'd realized the gravity of her vow on the train home from her sixth year. 

Draco was walking too quickly for Maeve to catch up with the tides of students pushing against her. She didn't command the same fear and disdain Malfoy did. When he walked the halls most gave him a wide berth.

The hallways thinned out as Draco slipped down a familiar passage. Maeve rounded the corner to find him staring at the blank wall that led to the Room of Requirement. His shoulders hitched as he took steadying breaths. 

Maeve hadn't been quiet in her pursuit, so when she stepped beside him and asked him softly, "what exactly are you doing?" She was surprised at his jolt of shock. 

"Merlin!" Draco glared at her, "this is why I thought you were trailing me, Selwyn."

"I'm sorry that you're unobservant until I accidentally give you a few suspicious looks," Maeve replied, but her snide tone was forced. She hadn't sought him out to banter with him. Wiping a hand over her face before freezing him with a hard look, she spoke, "I wanted to make sure you weren't doing something stupid."

"Like picking a fight with a flagstone wall?" Draco sniped, before flinching at his own words almost imperceptibly, "I'm fine. I don't know why you bothered — "

"No need to be arrogant, Malfoy," Maeve cut him off, "you are allowed to be human. I just wanted to check because it's what I would want.  _ You're _ the one who keeps insisting at how alike we supposedly are." 

"And what incited this change of heart?" 

Malfoy's haughtily pinched face grew weary, his mouth forming a grim line. Maeve wasn't offended or taken aback by his frosty hesitance. She hadn't exactly been forthcoming and kind to him, though she believed her treatment of him was well-deserved. 

"I just decided I didn't want to suffer alone anymore," Maeve decided. It shocked her when she found the words to be the truth, "you seemed like the obvious choice, as the two of us have no reason to exploit the other." 

Draco scoffed at her words, "as if you don't have  _ any _ reason to exploit me." 

"Conceit, thy name is Draco Malfoy," Maeve couldn't help but roll her eyes, "stop acting as if you aren't just as miserable as I am. Misery demands company, and the faster you accept that — "

Maeve's voice warbled to a stop when his hand lifted to her face, long and thin fingers splaying against her cheek. She felt her heart speed up as she stared up at him. It hadn't occurred to her how close they had become until he was a breath away from her, staring down at her with wide eyes. 

It was as if neither of them truly understood what was happening. All thoughts of being with Malfoy, talking, and sharing their pain died in Maeve's mind. She wasn't that type of person. She did not cry and share her feelings. And Draco bloody Malfoy would not be having tearful discussions of his feelings with her, that was a fact. 

It had been a vain hope, brought on by watching people like Saint Potter himself, and how his friends stood by him. People like Anthony. People like Neville. People like Luna. 

So Maeve fell into old habits. She slipped back into the part of herself that shut off compartments of herself to stay sane, to keep the darkness at bay. 

She sought out a distraction from the chaos in her mind. 

It was impossible to tell who initiated it, but the next moment Maeve and Draco were kissing. It was bruising and all-consuming. She felt like she was pure fire and nothing more. The world around faded to a senseless nothing that brought the most weightless sense of relief. 

Maeve pulled away from Draco, her heart pounding and head spinning, "je -  _ I _ ... What?"


	33. Chapter 30 | 1998

###  Chapter 30 | 1998

Maeve cast another look across the classroom, catching sight of Draco staring uninterestedly at his potion. It had been two weeks since they'd shared their kiss in the hall. It had been two weeks since she'd backed away from him like he was some great, big monster and ran. He'd ignored her since. 

And with each day that passed, her guilt grew. Maeve's life had splintered into so many fractions she was practically incapable of piecing together her feelings when they were dashed into every part of her. 

He was a Death Eater. He was a Pure-blood. He was an arrogant bastard. Her parents were Death Eaters. They were Pure-blood. Their intentions had washed away when she'd cut off contact with them. 

Maeve didn't understand her feelings about her parents. She didn't want to feel anything for Draco; he represented everything that caused her turmoil. But her mind circled back again and again to the irrefutable fact that they were so very similar. 

Maeve didn't possess the will to hate Draco Malfoy. Whenever she thought the worst of him she wondered what she would have done in a similar situation and felt ill. 

Would Maeve have become a Death Eater if it had been asked of her? Would Maeve had uttered the spell to murder Albus Dumbledore if she'd been tasked to? Would she have become just another faceless villain among the blackened horde of the Dark Lord's forces? 

"You aren't even trying," Theo mused, almost to himself, "how will you barely pass the class if you don't give it your undivided attention, hmm?"

The jab would have hurt Maeve years ago when she'd still found it hard to fit with her friends. When she watched them effortlessly excel in their classes after spending their time faffing about. Instead, Maeve just accepted the underhanded insult as Theo being unable to have a serious conversation. 

"I'm fine, Theo. Just tired," Maeve murmured, waving her wand over the potion in her cauldron that looked like lumpy tar. 

"That's what you always say."

"Maybe I'm always tired."

Theo sniffed delicately, before mocking Minerva McGonagall's warbling voice, "one cannot live on food and water alone." 

Maeve laughed quietly, "what are you even talking about?"

Theo shrugged, "not quite sure. I was hoping channelling Professor McGonagall would result in some great wisdom, but I don't have much to show for it."

Maeve smiled at Theo, before returning to her poorly crafted potion. She wasn't looking forward to the grim look Slughorn would no doubt fire her way when she presented it for judgement. Thankfully, she was spared the shame as there wasn't enough time to finish the simmering entirely, so the class's batches of Memory Potions were saved from adjudication for another day. 

Theo had promised to meet Daphne in the courtyard, despite the dissipating cold, so the two trudged down the halls in silence. The halls had once been full of laughter and running students, but most just kept their heads down as they scurried back and forth. No one wanted to stand out in the crowd. For most, it was grounds for a  _ detention _ . 

The bitter cold of dead winter had dissipated slightly, but icy snow still crusted the earth in the shadowy patches of the grounds. The breeze in the air was a direct breath of the upcoming spring, but the following shiver was pure winter. 

It was bright in the courtyard, so bright it took Maeve a moment as her eyes adjusted to the light. She took a deep breath as she let the chill air clean out her lungs. The dusty stuffiness of the dungeons was cloying at times. 

Theo's sharp intake of breath caused Maeve to blink open her eyes and she immediately caught sight of the object of his surprise. 

A strange, gallows-like contraption had been erected that boasted dangling shackles. Beside it, stood a very pleased-looking Alecto Carrow. Her porcine face was scrunched up into a lopsided leer, as she giggled.

What truly gave the two pause, however, was the twisting figure that hung from their shackled ankles. Red-faced, Micheal Corner hung like drying flowers as he shouted blasphemies. 

Maeve's eyes watered painfully and she did something she hadn't done since she was a child. She crossed herself. She had never been heavily religious, as she had never had direct affiliations with  _ Les Plébéiens _ , but catholicism had bled into French magical culture so subtly throughout the years that it was instinct, " _ mon Dieu _ ." 

" _ Merlin _ ," Theo's voice was a harsh whisper, "I thought Filch was lying all those years."

"Let this be a lesson to you, boy!" Alecto screeched in her warbling voice, "do not cross me. Disciplinary action is inescapable. Those who transgress repent."

Micheal appeared to be fighting for consciousness as he tried to spit back words, but they came out as hacking stutters, "f-f-first year? Never!"

There was somewhat of a crowd forming as milling students arrived to watch the spectacle in horror. 

Maeve turned her back to the scene and walked away. Theo didn't follow. She suspected his eyes were glued to the demonstration as everyone else's were. She couldn't look. She didn't want to. 

Micheal Corner wasn't a boy she'd paid much attention to throughout the years. He was a Ravenclaw, and a year younger than her at that, with dark hair and a pale face. She knew Anthony and he were friends, but that was all. 

And she'd just watched him hanging on school grounds. 

The halls were nearly empty as she wound her way back to the dungeons in a daze. She found she spent most of her time in a daze, or aching from the inside out. Whenever she felt a dash of joy, it was squashed either by the darkness outside of herself, or her guilty conscience. It felt as though happiness had been forbidden. 

Maeve craved a spark of light. In fact, she found that she'd settle for a dying ash. 

" _ Merlin _ ," Maeve murmured to the wall that led to the Slytherin common rooms. It was just as quiet inside as it had been in the halls. Low fires crackled in the corners of the room, but there wasn't anyone sitting at the green overstuffed chairs and sofas. It was strange. 

It was most likely everyone had heard of the spectacle in the courtyard and, like a herd of geese, they had run to catch a glance of the flurry. 

Steps sounded hollowly, before a tired-looking Draco Malfoy appeared. He had obviously recently abandoned his dorm. His hair was mussed and fell into his eyes as he squinted at her. His hands were empty of the books she'd seen him carrying as he'd left potions. 

"Draco," Maeve said by way of greeting, unsure how he would react after their last encounter. 

"Maeve," he raised an eyebrow.

Slowly, as if her feet were moving without her permission, she stumbled towards him. She was a mere foot away from him when she whispered, "I'm sorry." 

An echo of the smirk he'd worn for years danced over his mouth, before he let out a humourless chuckle, "are you really?"

"I shouldn't have run away from you," Maeve murmured, taking a slow step into his personal space so that they were inches apart, "I was confused."

"And you aren't anymore?"

" _ Merlin _ ," Maeve felt her eyelids dip as she leaned forward, "I've never been more confused in my life."

She kissed him.


	34. Chapter 31 | 1998

### Chapter 31 | 1998

The pair was breathing heavily when they broke apart for air. Draco grinned down at her lazily and ran his thumb over his swollen bottom lip, "must you attack me like that whenever you see me, Maeve?"

His words were light with humour, but there was a twinkle of smug contentedness in his pale face. 

"Better than following you, I suppose," she quipped back, smoothing her hands over his white dress shirt she'd been twisting her fingers into moments ago. She threw a canvassing look over her shoulder to make sure that they were alone in the dusty corridor they'd ducked into out of habit. She supposed it didn't really matter that much if they got caught by anyone other than the Carrows, but then again, they were Pure-bloods. The Carrows would probably have turned blind eyes. The thought made Maeve uncomfortable. 

"Same time tomorrow," Draco joked, eyes laughing. 

Maeve's secret unwillingness to admit that she and Malfoy had been sneaking around for weeks added to the growing ocean of guilt that sloshed in her stomach painfully each day. But neither of the pair had broached the subject, and Maeve was perfectly happy living in denial if he was as well. 

"How will I survive through the Spring Holidays," Maeve turned her chin dramatically, "I suppose I'll have to look out the window into the distance longingly for at least twenty minutes each day."

Draco's hand rose as he smoothed her hair that he'd none-too-gently pulled from its braid earlier, "am I only worth twenty minutes? Thought I'd be at least an hour."

"You lost the right when you slammed me into a stone wall."

Maeve was only half-joking. She hadn't forgotten his vicious snarl and hands on her shoulders, pressing her against the cold stone wall of the dungeon corridor. 

Draco lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug, "well, I don't know what you want me to say about that."

Maeve nearly rolled her eyes at his words, "believe me, Draco, I am not simple enough to even imagine you capable of remorse for any actions you believe to be justified."

"Then we agree," he said over his shoulder as he began to walk away. He didn't look back over his shoulder and Maeve hadn't expected him to. 

"A sorry would have been nice," she grumbled to the empty hall. Then, she shook her head. She refused to be the one talking to herself in some lonely hall of Hogwarts.

*******

"Maeve," the pile of blankets greeted her as Maeve entered the dorm. 

"Daphne," Maeve replied, tugging at her tie with unfounded aggression. She tossed the glorified noose on her bed, accompanied by her robes moments after. 

She tugged a thick wool sweater over her dress shirt that she'd left at the end of her rumpled bed days previous. 

"You look like you lost a fight with a hairbrush," Daphne insulted from her blanket castle. 

Patting at her hair self-consciously, Maeve glared at her friend. She rummaged through her nightstand for her brush, before she brandished it in Daphne's general direction, "why are you in such a foul mood? Well, more so than normal."

"Can't a witch dying a slow, agonizing death suffer without judgement?"

Daphne's dramatic words were undermined by her throwing the coverlets from her shoulders and emerging from the pile. Her eyes were red, punctuated by dark bruises that alluded to lack of sleep. What caught Maeve off guard, however, was her hair. 

"You cut your hair?" Maeve asked gingerly.

"Yes!" Daphne turned her gaze to the window, blinking rapidly. Her voice was thick with unshed tears as she spoke, "I wanted a change. It was so thin and flat."

"You look like a boy?" Maeve offered in what she hoped was a supportive tone, but she was unused to consoling Daphne. She quickly amended, "a _pretty_ boy, of course!"

Tears leaked from her friend's pale blue eyes, but Daphne blinked hard as gasping laughed wracked the blonde witch's form, "I do, don't I?" she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, "the prettiest boy to walk the halls of Hogwarts."

"The best of the best," Maeve assured.

The two locked eyes, before the laughter overtook them. 

Strangely, in the wake of the dark shroud that had covered the lives of so many, it was all too easy to laugh. In her lowest moments, Maeve found herself laughing. It was catching. 

Everyone laughed, because if they didn't, they would cry. 

Daphne did both. The tears continued to flow as she collapsed to her pillows, giggling all the while. 

Maeve hadn't lied. Daphne's short hair only accentuated her pointed elfin features. She was one of those strange beauties one couldn't help but look at, long to be with, or long to be. It had been a surprise to many when she'd never deigned to accept one of the many propositions made to her throughout the years. It was no secret some rather hurt and mean-spirited boys distastefully referred to her as the 'Snake Queen'. Though, Maeve was pretty sure Daphne had secretly been pleased with herself when she'd caught wind of the insult. 

"Are you really dying?" Maeve's words came when the room was empty of their echoing laughter, "I know you've said it's a slow process. But, you surely don't mean as soon as within a year?"

"I am really dying," Daphne said, her voice adopting a dry tone, "but, no, I could live to be forty, I could die in five years, or I could live to be three hundred."

"So, you don't truly know?"

Daphne's eyes turned to the dying light filtering from the window once more, " _no_."

The gravity of Daphne's situation made the air disappear from Maeve's lungs. It was nearly impossible to wrap her mind around the truth. But Daphne had spoken so finally, as if her friend had already come to terms with her death, whenever it may be. 

"I just have to do my best to live without regrets; live like there isn't a tomorrow, I suppose."

"You truly have no regrets?" Maeve's eyebrows were high on her forehead. 

" _Please_ ," Daphne let out a huffing laugh, "in a world so much like the one we are living in today, it is impossible to live without regrets."

The silence that followed Daphne's declaration was heavy, but brief. 

"Let's go down to the Great Hall. I find I have an appetite tonight," Daphne said, uncharacteristically cheerfully. She seemed lighter as she danced around the room, searching for and donning more casual clothing as was appropriate for the evening. 

Maeve wasn't sure if she had an appetite, but she followed Daphne out of their dorm.


	35. Chapter 32 | 1998

###  Chapter 32 | 1998

Neville Longbottom walked the halls like a ghost. It hurt to look at him. His eyes were determined, unbroken, but his body was warning to any of those who directly opposed the Carrows. 

Maeve stepped to the side of the hall, scrambling out of his way. With every step he took, her eyes followed. In fact, most watched him, if not  _ everyone _ in the crowded hall. 

He'd sported bruises for months, but he looked as though he'd been used to sharpen knives. Fresh blood leaked from uncountable cuts, and he limped slightly as he walked alone down the hall and through the parting students. 

Sharp movement caught her eye, and Maeve turned her gaze toward two boys who jogged up from behind and flanked him. Micheal and Anthony. The two Ravenclaw boys gave fierce looks to all those around and hurried off with Neville. 

"Every day their numbers dwindle," Pansy sounded pitying, "first Loony, then Weasley. Longbottom is next, mark my words. If they just stand down they can  _ live _ ."

Maeve elbowed her cousin to shut her up. Thankfully, Pansy's comment had gone unheard. The hall had erupted into whispers the moment Neville had surpassed hearing distance. 

In response to Pansy's irritated glare, Maeve glared back, " _ talking _ about them could get us into trouble."

It was true. Not a week before, Maeve had watched a Gryffindor utter the word Dumbledore in the hall and it was like Alecto Carrow appeared from the shadows. She'd dragged the young student down the hall by his collar to her office. Maeve hadn't seen him since. 

Pansy grabbed hold of Maeve's hand and practically dragged her off her feet in the opposite direction Neville had disappeared off to. Pansy was meeting Blaise in the library, and, as always, was oblivious to Maeve's disinterest in being the third. 

The library was one of the few places in the entire school that were almost always occupied, but the table at which they usually sequestered themselves in the back of the stacks was usually empty. 

Dodging between two bookshelves Pansy had nearly careened her into, Maeve took a moment before she realized who was already sitting at the table with Blaise. 

"Malfoy?" Maeve said in mild surprise.

At the same moment, Pansy piped out an excited, "Draco!"

From what Maeve had deduced, Draco spent most of his time skulking off by himself or, on occasion, with Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy had complained to Maeve's deaf ears on many occasions about how she missed her friend. 

Maeve didn't think Draco even had friends. She surely wasn't his friend. As if he could read her thoughts, his eyes turned to her and lazily trailed up and down her body. 

"What took you so long?" Blaise's irritated voice broke Maeve from her dissection.

Pansy dropped into a chair directly beside her boyfriend, dropping a kiss to his lips, before she pouted, "Longbottom was making a spectacle of himself in the hallway."

Draco leaned back in his chair, lounging as if it was made for him, "when is Longbottom not making a spectacle of himself?"

Pansy snickered.

"I swear he'll be the next to disappear," Blaise predicated, his tone dark. 

Maeve didn't take a seat. Instead, she elected to lean against a bookcase so she could make a hasty exit if needed, "that's what your girlfriend said."

"Whether he'll join Weasley on the run or get snatched remains to be seen," Pansy said the words conversationally, but her eyebrows pinched together. 

"Weasley's on the run?" Maeve said, shocked. She'd imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios involving Ginny Weasley's disappearance, but she'd never considered that the witch was on the run.

"Along with Loony now as well, I suppose," Blaise said with a laugh. He elbowed Draco as if the two were sharing some private joke. 

Draco's hand tightened on where it rested on his wand on the table and he glowered, but didn't respond. 

"Lovegood is on the run?" Maeve felt woefully uninformed. Her eyes darted between her companions, trying to scry the truth from their expressions. 

"After her rather impressive jailbreak? I'd think so," Blaise mused. 

"What are you even talking about?" Maeve levelled her stare on Blaise. 

"Don't tell me you don't know?" Blaise stared at her as if she was an idiot, "have your parents told you nothing?"

"I haven't spoken to my parents for months. Now what the fuck are you talking about, Zabini," Maeve snapped, clicking her fingers in his direction for good measure. 

"Lovegood was imprisoned during Christmas break at the manor, she was set free by Potter during the attack on Malfoy manor during the break. That's why Weaslette didn't return, I'd expect. Her family has grievous ties with The Boy Who Lived," Blaise supplied as if he was explaining to a very simple child. 

Maeve couldn't help it. Her eyes darted to seek out Draco's. He was staring at his wand, seemingly unbothered. 

" _ Mon Dieu, _ " Maeve murmured under her breath. Luna had been imprisoned for months with the Dark Lord. She shuddered to think about what the strange witch had endured. It felt a bit like a slap in the face. Her mind worked of its own accord, flashing between her memories and made-up images of the blonde witch being tortured endlessly. 

"Bloody insane is what it is," Pansy shook her head.

*******

"Anthony isn't in class today," Maeve whispered to Theo. 

"So?" Theo didn't look up from his cauldron.

"Neither is Micheal," with another cursory glance, Maeve felt her heart drop, "or Longbottom."

Theo looked up, his eyes flitting around the room, lingering at the empty stations, "that's odd, but — "

The door to the classroom swung open. In walked two furious Carrows. Alecto carried an unrolled bit of parchment that flapped around with every heavy step she took towards Slughorn. The professor stood to his full height and stared down his nose at the approaching twins, " _ what _ is the meaning of this!?"

"Longbottom, Corner, Goldstein, and Boot. Where are they?" Alecto snarled, jowls quivering with rage. Her beady eyes were so slitted that they were barely visible and her face was a mottled red.

"I have no idea where  _ my _ students are!" Slughorn snapped back at equal volume, "perhaps if you weren't snatching them from my class as you do I could keep a better track."

The room went silent.


	36. Chapter 33 | 1998

###  Chapter 33 | 1998

Maeve had been plagued with nightmares that hadn't touched her for nearly a year each night. She kept on reliving the moment she'd taken ahold of her mother's arms, the slithering fire, the Unbreakable Vow. After the disappearance of Anthony and his friends, more had scattered to the winds. Deep down, Maeve was terrified that they weren't in hiding, terrified that they were simply dead. 

Her dreams always started with The Vow, then twisted to the deaths of her friends, her loved ones. She'd see the light leave Anthony's eyes at the hands of her father, Pansy mangled beneath Fenrir Greyback, her mother leaning over her with that black wand pointed at Maeve's chest. 

"Maeve!" The high-pitched scream sent Maeve's head spinning as she jolted up. 

The room was in chaos. Millicent, Pansy, and Daphne were in movement, all half-dressed. Maeve spiralled to a time, one year previous where she'd awoken to such a flurry and she nearly fainted. Her hands shook as she threw off her covers, and she wobbled to standing. 

"We have to get to the Great Hall!" Millicent hissed as she threw a robe on over her sleeping clothes, "something's happened. We don't know what."

Pansy was already dressed in a pair of jeans and a black jumper, "Maeve! Hurry up! We need to get to the Great Hall."

Blinking rapidly, she followed her cousin's instruction. She'd fallen asleep in her clothes after a particularly late night at the library, so she pulled a dark sweater on to fend off the cold and grabbed her wand from her nightstand. 

Cold dread solidified Maeve's insides as they rushed through the halls with streams of students. She feared the worst, but she wasn't entirely sure what the worst could be. Up until that moment, every time she'd thought things couldn't get worse they had. 

*******

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was deceivingly peaceful; dark and scattered with twinkling stars. Below it stood students, lining their house tables in various states of dress. Every eye was trained on Professor McGonagall, who was speaking at the raised platform at the end of the hall. Flanking her, was every professor excluding the Carrows and Headmaster Snape. There was also a ragtag team of wizards and witches. Maeve recognized some, but only vaguely. Remus Lupin, their old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher stood among them, along with a group of red-haired figures who could only be the entire Weasley clan. 

Maeve's eyes were glued on Luna Lovegood, however, who stood there smiling dreamily and Anthony, who stood beside her with a determined look. Micheal, Neville, and Ginny Weasley were among the bunch as well. Maeve felt relief wash over her, removing a weight from her shoulders she'd forgotten was there. 

" ... evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give you the word, you will organize your house and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point," Professor McGonagall's words were precise and unwavering as she concisely organized the harried students. 

A Hufflepuff boy spoke into the echoing hall, "and what if we want to stay and fight?"

To her surprise, a smattering of applause broke out through the crowd. She swivelled her head around, noting that none of the Slytherins applauded the idea. Most looked horrified at the idea of staying to fight the horde of Death Eaters that were due to bear down on the castle. Most of them had parents who were Death Eaters, Maeve included, they weren't keen on standing toe to toe with their parents on the opposite side. Maeve was angry with them, but she didn't think she could ever truly wish them harm. 

"If you are of age, you may stay," Professor McGonagall said over the rumbling voices, her eyes narrowed as she eyed certain students Maeve assumed were younger students raring to fight off the Death Eaters.

A Ravenclaw broke in to complain about the possible loss of their possessions, and Maeve rolled her eyes, turning to catch Daphne's eye just as Millicent spoke up, "where's Professor Snape?" 

Her words were accusatory, as if it  _ wasn't _ a service to the school for the man to leave it. Maeve had once respected Severus Snape, but the moment he let The Carrow's run rampant she'd begun to despise him.

After quipping back about Snape's supposed flight of the castle, the Gryffindors cheered loudly. Turning to face the irritating Gryffindors, Maeve saw him. Harry Potter was weaving through the students, whispers following where he went. 

" _ Mon Dieu _ ," Maeve nudged Daphne, "Potter."

Daphne swore softly. 

In her distraction, Maeve had stopped listening to McGonagall's precise speech. Just as she raised her eyes to the dais once more, pain split through her head as a voice boomed from within. 

" _ I know that you are preparing to fight _ ," the voice was cold, like ice sliding down one's spine. Screams broke out and students lurched forward to clutch at each other. Daphne's hand, small and cold, grasped Maeve's so tightly her bones felt like they were cracking, " _ your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. _ "

The voice paused. The hall was so silent that if a pin were to fall to the ground, it would echo through the enormous chamber like a cannon. 

" _ Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded _ ," the voice spoke coaxingly, but the pure evil dripping off every word undercut anything close to human emotion, " _ you have until  _ midnight."

Every eye in the silent room turned to the dark-haired boy with the lightning bolt scar. He froze under the weight of their stares. His face was determined, but with every passing moment, he looked a tad more uncertain. 

"But he's there!" Screeched a familiar voice. Maeve turned to see her cousin pointing a shaking finger in Potter's direction, "Potter's  _ there _ ! Someone grab him!"

No one moved for one broken second, before the entire table of Gryffindor students stood at once and faced their table. The Hufflepuffs followed, then the Ravenclaws. Wands emerged from cloaks and pockets. Maeve felt cornered, her heartbeat sped up. Her worst fear was about to be realized; she was going to be persecuted for the crimes of her parents, they were going to be thrown in the line of fire to die painful, meaningless deaths. 

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," McGonagall spoke quickly with a hard and angry tone, "you will leave the hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your house could follow."

They filed out of the hall house by house. Pansy, begrudgingly led the pack as a prefect. The halls were strangely quiet despite the mass of bodies shuffling through. The only sounds were those of clothing rasping and soft gasps and quiet tears. 

Daphne had not let go of Maeve's hand all the while. Turning her eyes to see her friends', she found Daphne's blue eyes swimming with tears, "I don't want anyone to die."

The words were barely a whisper, and her voice cracked on the last word. 

Maeve squeezed Daphne's cold hand, "me neither."

They were near the front of the pack, so it wasn't hard to see where they were headed. The Room of Requirement. She should've known. 

When they filed into a room filled with hammocks and the banners of all houses aside from Slytherin, the pieces clicked together in her mind. Maeve felt her mouth grow slack.

Anthony had been the one to show them the room long ago. It had been a secret. Neville, the supposed new leader of Dumbledore's  _ bloody _ Army had disappeared, followed by many of his friends weeks ago. Anthony was a member of Dumbledore's Army, and they'd been hiding in the castle for weeks. 

Maeve stumbled as she came to the realization. The only thing that kept her from falling flat on her face was Daphne's surprisingly strong grip. The blonde witch gave her friend a sharp look as she practically dragged Maeve to her feet and moved forward. 

Suddenly, Maeve took rapid steps to the side, pulling Daphne with her. 

"What are you doing?" Daphne hissed as the two stepped out of the way of the flowing students.

"I have a horrible feeling," Maeve murmured, watching students flood by and file into the passage that led to safety. None took notice of the girls slipping from the herd.

"Have your horrible feelings by yourself," Daphne's voice was high pitched and scared. When Maeve faced her, her eyes were wide and scared, her face pale. She pulled her hand from Maeve's, "I can't be here when  _ it _ happens. I  _ can't _ , Maeve." 

Maeve didn't have a chance to respond, she just watched her friend disappear into the evacuating crowd. She hadn't realized how much Daphne's silent support had helped her until it was gone. She felt frantic and scared as she watched the houses trail by. 

She watched the last Gryffindor rush past, before the Hufflepuffs were the only let to leave. Her heart was in her shoes. 

She'd been right. 

As she'd watched the students pass by, she'd counted too many faces unaccounted for. 

Draco, Blaise, Goyle, Luna, and Anthony were all absent.


	37. Chapter 34 | 1998

###  Chapter 34 | 1998

Maeve's heart was pounding. There was no time, but she couldn't ignore the absence of people she'd shared years of her life with. She'd only just formed a hesitant truce with Malfoy after years of fearing him. And Anthony,  _ Merlin _ , Anthony. She hadn't spoken to him in far too long. 

Her heart split into two as she strained against her better judgement. Maeve wanted nothing more than to join the students evacuating, saving herself in the process, but the thought of never seeing Anthony again, of never being able to apologize hurt her more than she thought it could. There was no way she could abandon Anthony, or anyone else for that matter. 

She knew a teacher was trailing at the end of the students to make sure the evacuation was complete, but it wasn't hard to duck behind a red hammock to evade being found out. It didn't occur to her until she was entirely alone in the Room of Requirement that she had nothing to hide. She was of age, McGonagall had said that those of age could choose to fight. 

But she wasn't going to fight. 

She was going to save her friends. 

Maeve was cursing herself inwardly for acting foolish, almost as foolish as an idiot Gryffindor as she slipped from the room. It spat her out in the dungeons and she nearly stamped her foot. She had no idea where she was meant to go, but she had a feeling none of her friends would be skulking around in the dungeons. 

"Ah,  _ putain _ ," Maeve groaned to herself. She didn't want to be a bloody target in the middle of the hallway. 

Then, a thought occurred to her, "Slytherin indeed, cunning to  _ spare _ ."

She almost cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. Removing her wand from her sleeve, she closed her eyes prepared for the change. 

A moment later, a red fox stood where she had, a wand clamped between its jaws. 

Taking off like a shot, Maeve's mind whirred. She had no bloody clue where her friends could possibly be and she had limited time to collect them. Resigning herself to quickly check each floor, she picked up the speed. 

Her vulpine muscles were fast as a flash as she pumped her legs as fast as she could. Clearing the dungeons after a mere moment, she moved to the main floor. Darting through the halls, ducking into crevices and shadows whenever she caught sight of professors or those who'd stayed behind to fight, she checked the halls. 

"If we both survive this, you owe me ten galleons," a voice floated from the end of a hall, and Maeve scrabbled against the smooth floor to dart in the other direction and behind a pedestal. She could've sworn had boasted a stone statue of a knight before. 

Two sets of footsteps passed her hiding spot, "you're on, Fred!"

_ The Weasley twins _ ? Maeve shook her head and continued on.

She'd been running for so long that she'd lost track of time, when she stumbled upon her first casualty. The rumbling had started far before, but she hadn't seen the carnage. There were piles of rubble strewn about as a result of offensive spells in the corridors closer to the Great Hall and the doors. She skidded backwards, but still came to a stop within view of the body. 

It was a girl in a Hogwarts robe. She was a Hufflepuff Maeve had never spoken a word to, in fact, she didn't even know the Hufflepuff's name. 

The whine that echoed in the empty hall startled her, until she realized it had come from her. Her eyes burned, but she forced herself to pass by the poor Hufflepuff. She made a silent promise to herself to find out what the name of the girl had been. 

When she rounded the corner of the hall, she was almost immediately hit by an offensive spell. It made a loud cracking noise as the green light exploded against the wall a few feet above her head. In the hall, none other than Neville Longbottom was duelling a masked Death Eater and a raggedly dressed snatcher. 

She turned and ran in the opposite direction. After fleeing far enough for the popping cracks of magic spells to die down, she skidded to a stop in a corridor she vaguely recognized. It was hard to get her bearings after all the running around, not to mention the change in vantage point. 

When she stopped to take deep breaths through her twitching nose, she heard the voices. 

"How can you be sure he went in?" Draco's voice. 

Maeve didn't think, she just rounded the corner and allowed the change to take hold of her once more. She was standing in her human form glaring down her nose at Blaise, Goyle, and Malfoy before they had time to react to her vulpine form. 

"Why the bloody fuck are you all still here?" She demanded, taking a step forward, "are you all as moronic as you seem?" 

Draco sneered down his nose at her and spoke first, surprising her with the venom in his voice, "I have unfinished business with Potter."

"That's right," Goyle chimed. 

"Who cares about Potter! We have to leave. People are dying in the halls and I don't intend to be one," Maeve's voice was tinged with desperation. She turned to face Draco, took hold of his hand and pleaded, "please, Draco. You have a choice in this."

"You don't understand!" Draco swiped away his hand, " _ I have to do this _ ."

"You don't have to do anything!" Maeve growled back, before turning to Blaise, "what about Pansy?"

"What about her?" Blaise retorted, his usual air of haughtiness entirely intact. 

Maeve wanted to cry. Her eyes took in the angry, but determined faces of her fellow Slytherins and her stomach dropped. After that, the only thing she felt was a frustration so intense it made way to anger. She spat at Draco's feet, " _ fine _ . You all disgust me."

"We're doing what's required," Blaise snarled.

"What's expected!" Goyle chimed. 

Maeve shook her head, "Doesn't make it right."

Draco's face was twisted with an emotion Maeve couldn't read. She didn't give herself a chance to feel sorry for them, or herself. She simply turned and let the change take over. 

If they refused to help themselves, they were already lost. Maeve had to try with one last person before she gave up. 

Tiny paws pounding against the stone, Maeve ran through the torn-up halls with only one person in mind:  _ Anthony _ .


	38. Chapter 35 | 1998

###  Chapter 35 | 1998

Maeve was crying. She hadn't even been aware that in her animal form she had the ability to cry. The tears were few and far between, but she felt the inescapable sense of dread that ate one alive until they were nothing but nerves. 

She'd given up entirely on remaining unnoticed. She ran through halls where Death Eaters and Professors duelled. She'd seen more dead on both sides. It had taken a lot of willpower to resist unmasking the Death Eaters who wore their masks. 

If they were dead, Maeve decided she didn't wish to know until the battle was over and she was safe. Her parents were still her parents, but she didn't know if she hoped for the worse or not. It probably made her a horrible daughter, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. 

The further from the Great Hall, the less carnage there was, but the battle was everywhere. There wasn't a hall free of pockmarked walls from spells, nor the telltale sounds of magical warfare. 

It was when Maeve had begun to fear the worst; that she wouldn't find Anthony alive at all, that she'd find him among the dead, when she rounded a corner to enter the corridor that housed Flitwick's Charms classroom. There, in a heap on the floor and staring up defiantly at a Death Eater, was Anthony. 

Her wand clattered to the floor as she nearly fell-face first into a pile of rubble. She rose from her crouch in her human form, and in the same moment, threw her hands out instinctively, a roar tearing itself from her throat. 

_ Do you swear to never raise your wand against a follower of the Dark Lord? _

The words of Yaxley boomed through her skull. She waited for the pain, waited for the darkness, but nothing came.

The Death Eater went flying. He wasn't wearing a mask like many of the others. His face was one Maeve recognized. Yaxley. His blonde hair had come apart from its neat tail, and he bared his teeth angrily at her as he righted himself at her with preternatural speed, " _ how _ — why  _ you little bitch _ !"

Yaxley raised his wand, eyes wild, and Maeve knew he was going to kill her. She raised her hands above her head to shield her face, her stomach dropping as she cowered in her final moments. 

The pain that shot through her entire body was like none other. It was as if white-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, as if the world faded to flaming nothingness beyond the pain, as if her very being was going to burst. It could have been a half-second or an hour; it was all-consuming. 

"Maeve!" Hands shook at her shoulders as her vision cleared from the white nothingness it had been, "Oh,  _ Merlin _ , no! Maeve!" 

The blurry world sharpened at the centre. Maeve stared up at Anthony's worried face. She could feel the wetness of tears in her eyes, the burn of screams in her throat. 

"Anthony?" She croaked, allowing him to aid her to a sitting position. Her eyes darted to the still form of Yaxley. He was slumped against a stone wall, blood staining his hair red. All she could manage was to marvel, "I'm not dead?" 

"No," Anthony's face slackened with relief, "no, you're not dead. He hit you with a _Cruciatus_ _curse_ and you were just lying there, even after he was down, screaming."

But Maeve was barely listening, she lifted her hand to her face, her eyes were blurry and she was nearly pressing her nose to her hand as she stared at the faint lines that made no sense, "how am I not dead?" 

Anthony took her hand to inspect it, no doubt thinking she had somehow injured it. His eyes flashed and he met her gaze as he spoke on an exhale, so softly she almost didn't hear his words, " _ an Unbreakable Vow. _ "

" _ My wand _ ," Maeve choked out.

"Your what?" Anthony questioned, looking entirely taken aback. 

Maeve couldn't help the choked laugh that tore itself from her throat, "he's a  _ moron _ . A  _ bloody moron _ , Anthony!"

"Maeve! What the bloody hell are you saying?"

" _ My wand _ , Anthony," Maeve grinned at him, "the moron made me vow to never raise my wand against a Death Eater. He said nothing about my  _ hands _ ."

Anthony stared at her in shocked silence. 

Then, she smacked a hand over her mouth. After a moment of silence, she was sent into another short fit of laughter, "not to mention he didn't even gain my word to not tell anyone about the Vow! Moron, moron, moron!"

"That's why you said you couldn't do anything. You - you weren't making excuses," he seemed to be talking to himself. 

Maeve shook herself from her reverie and snatched up her wand. She'd had her reasons to seek out Anthony in the first place. She stood and reached out a hand to her friend, "come on, we have to go. He could regain consciousness at any time."

Anthony accepted her hand and she began to drag him down the hall and away from the fallen Death Eater. 

They arrived at a crossroads and Maeve tugged Anthony in the direction that led to the Room of Requirement, but he stilled. 

"Maeve, what are you doing? They need help in the Entrance Hall," Anthony chastised. 

"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to get you out," Maeve stated firmly, before making to tug him once again.

Anthony broke away from her grip easily and eyed her warily, "I'm fighting Maeve. I made my choice."

"No, you can't!" Maeve shook her head rapidly, her eyes stinging with tears, "I can't let you die!" 

"If I don't do this, I'll be as good as dead."

Maeve was at a loss for words. She grasped for words for a moment of complete silence, "now is not a time to be brave, Anthony. It's time to be smart."

Anthony's eyes softened and he took a step forward, "be brave, Maeve."

"I am brave, but I'm not stupid."

"My mother is in Azkaban for nothing other than her blood status," Anthony took another step forward, "she could be dead. Every day Muggle-borns are persecuted for their very existence. Just because the issues in this new world don't affect you, doesn't mean you shouldn't care." 

"I do care!"

"Then fight!" Anthony placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and stared earnestly into her eyes, "fight for a better future, a greater future."

The fearful creature that had been eating her from the inside out for months reared its ugly head, "I can't!" She cried out, her pulse pounding and her breath speeding up until she became lightheaded, "I'm not ready to die! I'm not even a whole person, Anthony! I've lived nothing of my life; amounted to nothing."

"Do you think that's what we're doing? Truly?" Anthony shook his head down at her, "we aren't fighting to die, Maeve, we're fighting to  _ live _ ."

Maeve's hands dug into her hair, pulling sharply at it. Tears slipped from her stinging eyes, "you can't expect me to go and face my parents, my aunt and uncle, my friend's parents? I wouldn't have to make a vow to not want to raise my wand against my family. I can't be responsible for the death of my parents." 

Anthony's eyes were pleading, "I'm not asking you to kill your parents, but please, consider helping. You know what we're fighting for is right."

"I can't, Anthony." 

"You told me years ago about how you wanted to be an Auror," Anthony began and Maeve rolled her eyes angrily, but he glared at her and continued, "you'll have to face dark witches or wizards. You may know some of them, but I know you want Voldemort gone as much as I do." 

She flinched at the name, "I do want the Dark Lord - "

" _ Voldemort _ ," Anthony corrected firmly. 

"Anthony - " Maeve stared at him and felt every cell in her body fighting a civil war. Her instincts were crying out to be heard. She knew she had to run, to hide, to live, but the part of her that was Slytherin to the core reared its head at Anthony's words. She wanted to be great. She wanted to do good and change the world for the better. She wanted to be known for the changes she'd made to the foundation of their world, not her parents' crimes. 

"Maeve, you can do this.  _ Choose to fight for yourself. _ "

_ Choose _ .

"Fine," Maeve levelled Anthony with a hard look, "I'll fight with you."


	39. Chapter 36 | 1998

###  Chapter 36 | 1998

The Entrance Hall was in utter chaos. Professor Trelawney was lobbing great big crystal balls at enormous spiders that straggled around the room, tramping over everything in their path. Flitwick was surrounded by a ring of five Snatchers, firing spells in every direction, spinning round and round as he fended for his life. There were crumbling knight statues that jabbed stone swords at a grouping of haggard men led by Fenrir Greyback, who must have been werewolves. 

Anthony sprinted into the fray, expertly dodging spells and blocking curses, reaching a panting Micheal Corner just as his friend almost got hit by a flying curse, instead blocking it. Maeve took a deep breath, and followed his lead. She dodged through the mayhem, throwing up her hands to send Acromantulas flying against stone walls. One unlucky spider creature was sent directly into a stone knight, spitting itself on the knight's weapon. 

Micheal and Anthony were facing a masked Death Eater that threw spells so fast the two of them struggled to keep up with two against one. The two were so focused on the task, that a sparking curse thrown wide was coming straight for their backs. 

Swearing in three languages, Maeve slid her back to Anthony's and threw up her hands. Her mind was screaming with rage. She wanted nothing more than to be able to craft spells with her wand, but instead, she had all the raw power and none of the control. 

Silver light shone from her hands, flashing brightly as it absorbed the curse. 

"Maybe not," Maeve said to herself out of pure shock. 

A Snatcher that had just sent a dark-skinned man flying against the stone wall turned, his beady eyes narrowing as he caught sight of her and her empty hands. He pointed his oddly bent wand in her direction, his mouth moving as he uttered a curse she had no chance of hearing over the chaos. 

" _ Protego _ !" She screamed, and again the shining light burst from her hands, stronger this time. 

The Snatcher stared at her in shock. Maeve couldn't help but smirk at the raggedly dressed man. She let her hands move in ways she'd never before considered, uttering curses from Defence Against the Dark Arts that she'd never thought she'd use offensively in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. 

Flexing her fingers, black ribbons appeared from thin air, wrapping the Snatcher up until he was entirely covered, resembling a mummy squirming on the floor. 

Turning to face the Death Eater Michael and Anthony fought relentlessly, she threw up her hands to shield the three of them just as the two Ravenclaw boys fired red light from their wands. The Death Eater went flying and didn't stand up. 

Micheal spun to face her. To his credit, he didn't react more than his eyes widening impossibly huge, before the three of them were again engaged in fighting. 

"Taste your future, animals!" Trelawney screeched, lobbing another large crystal ball. It nailed Fenrir Greyback directly in the back of the head and he sank to a heap on the ground. 

A man in the black robes of a Death Eater stepped into Maeve's path, his mouth curling into a cruel smile, "Blood-traitor brat!"

Rookwood. He worked with her father. She had never liked him, and his willingness to presume her alliance sealed his fate. 

" _ Putain de bordel de merde _ !" Was the only thing that came to her mind. 

Maeve raised her hands and threw them apart. Rookwood flew into the air by his ankles, throwing spells from his wand in every direction. Raising one palm flat, she produced a weak shield of light that absorbed a flash of orange, then with her other hand, she pointed it at him and made a fist. 

He screamed and clawed at his throat as the same black ribbons snaked around his throat and tightened until he turned red, then purple. Maeve swiped her hands down in opposite directions, making an  _ x _ in the air. Rookwood fell to the ground and the ribbons disappeared all at once. He didn't so much as twitch. He could have been out cold or dead, Maeve forced herself not to think about it. Death was a reality of battle, and she wasn't so naive to think they could win against an enemy willing to kill every last one of them with disarming spells alone. 

Stomach overturning, Maeve forced herself to look away. Just in time, a spell flew at her from her left and she raised a hand to block it instinctively. Her arm burned painfully, but nothing more happened. One-handed spells were half as effective, she deduced. 

She fought to push back the thought:  _ what if she cast a killing curse with one hand _ ? 

Maeve would not cross that line, she promised herself. A death was unearned by one simple spell and incantation. If there was no fight, there was no honour or glory. Senseless killing was nothing but a holocaust. 

A chill settled in the air. It felt as if Maeve's bones were freezing over. 

"Incoming!" A disembodied voice called from the courtyard past the open enormous double-doors. 

A moment later, a flock of flying cloaked creatures flooded into the Entrance Hall. Dementors with skeletal hands and the stench of fresh death overtook the entire room. There were high-pitched screams throughout the throng on both sides. 

The fight drained out of Maeve. She felt cold as if she'd never be happy again; as if the battle was already lost. 

" _ Expecto Patronum _ !" Anthony cried out, his voice melding with others as an enormous bluejay of pure silver light erupted from his wand. Soon, the entire Entrance Hall was full of glistening animals. Maeve saw a hare, boar, lynx, and even a rat.

She didn't even attempt to add to the menagerie of animals that kept the Dementors at bay. Maeve had tried for months to attempt to master the Patronus Charm with a wand and she'd never succeeded in summoning a corporeal Patronus.

Instead, Maeve turned her attention to the forces of the Dark Lord, of Voldemort, that were only momentarily distracted, before they continued their assault. Greyback took hold of a blonde witch on the other side of the room. Maeve glowered in their direction, throwing her hands forward and growling, " _ relashio _ ." 

Greyback stumbled backwards and the witch raised a pale fist to forgo her wand and punch the werewolf straight in the mouth. Then, she turned around, and Maeve recognized Luna. 

"Maeve!" Micheal called out, throwing his wand forward and producing a shield that blocked a smattering of curses that hit it all at once. 

A line of Snatchers glared at her from a few dozen metres away. Maeve ran forward, forgoing Micheal's squawk of concern, and when she was a few feet away from the nervous-looking Snatchers, she splayed her fingers in their direction. She paused for one glorious second, and they all stared at her, then she breathed, " _ incendio _ ."

Ten, thin jets of fire roared towards them. 

Just as the fire began to burn through their hasty shields, something hit her like a tonne of bricks. Maeve fell to the ground, crushed by the weight of a figure that had thrown their entire body against her. 

Glaring down at her, mouth open and fangs out, was Fenrir Greyback. 

" _ You have fought valiantly _ ," the high, cold voice split through Maeve's skull, " _ Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. You have one hour _ ." 

A string of saliva dripped from a gleaming fang onto Maeve's cheek as she stared up at Greyback, who was mere inches from her face. His sour breath suffocated her and his weight pressing into her was doing nothing to help.

" _ Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured, _ " the voice continued, " _ I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour. _ "

The moment the voice faded in her mind, there was a barrage of cracking noises so loud it was as if a slew of cannons had fired. Every single being belonging to the forces of the Dark Lord disapparated or disappeared. Greyback ran a jagged nail over her cheek lightly, before he was utterly gone. 

Maeve pulled herself to a seated position and took in the carnage surrounding her. She felt like crying, but she just felt empty.

" _ Merlin _ ."


	40. Chapter 37 | 1998

###  Chapter 37 | 1998

Madame Pomfrey tutted to herself quietly, before pointing her wand at Anthony's head, "head injuries are difficult, Goldstein. Don't make a habit of it."

Anthony smiled weakly at her, "no ma'am."

He allowed Maeve to sling his arm over her shoulder and led him off the raised platform where the injured were being treated. Micheal sat in a corner, eyes blank, and Maeve turned to head towards the Ravenclaw boy. 

Anthony fell in a heap by his friend while Maeve sat more delicately. 

"It's a miracle you didn't get hurt as much as him and you don't even have a wand," Micheal wasn't even looking at them. His tone was a touch miffed, but Maeve didn't hold it against him. She didn't respond, only took her wand from her sleeve and raised it over Anthony's leg, murmuring healing spells under her breath. His leg had been his with some strange spell that had covered his entire left leg with such deep lacerations it was a marvel he hadn't died of blood loss. The sad thing was that it was deemed superficial enough to be treated by an untrained healer. Micheal glanced to the side at her muttering and started, "you had your wand the whole time?"

Anthony winced, but something came over him and he giggled quietly. Maeve and Micheal both stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Anthony waved off their looks, "it's — it's just that you finally found something you're actually good at."

Maeve could've smacked him. 

"Don't look at me like that!" He raised his hands placatingly, "maybe your dream of being an Auror is reachable. Maybe you're a secret dark wizard destroying maniac and we never knew it until now."

Maeve gave him a break, assuming he was probably loopy from the loss of blood, "I just can't believe that I could've gotten a better mark in Defence Against the Dark Arts if I'd forgone my bloody wand."

"Well, it doesn't make any logical sense," Micheal shook his head, "what wizard is more powerful  _ without _ their wand?"

"The attendees of  _ Uagadou _ ," Anthony said automatically.

Maeve stared blankly at the two Ravenclaw boys, who were staring at each other with wide eyes, "I don't think now is the time."

Her words were gentle but firm. She was no stranger to the Ravenclaw search for knowledge and answers, but her eyes had moved to the centre of the Great Hall where their dead had been arranged. People grieved on the other side of the room. 

"You're right," Anthony said, though he seemed reluctant to drop the topic. 

Maeve stayed sat uncomfortably on the cold stone floor with her eyes trained on the dead for a long time. From afar, they seemed so removed from reality she could pretend they weren't gone, but their crying friends and, in some cases family, punctured a hole in the fantasy. 

"I wish this could've been avoided," she said, mostly to herself. 

When her companions didn't respond, she glanced at them, only to find them eyeing her suspiciously. 

"I don't mean hand over Potter," she said tiredly, running a hand over her face, "he's obviously the only one that can make a difference in this conflict. I just mean — well, I don't know, I suppose."

"I know what you mean," Micheal agreed. 

Maeve hugged her knees to her chest and slid her wand back up her sleeve, letting her tired eyes rest on the open doors of the Great Hall.

Faster than seemed possible, the hour was up, or at least close to. There was a rustle of commotion and Maeve stood, following the flow of students, teachers, and members of the organization she had learned of named the Order of the Phoenix. 

Bruised and bloody, their procession marched through the halls to stop at the Entrance Hall. 

"NO!" The scream belonged to Professor McGonagall, and Maeve had never heard such a pained screech come from anyone, let alone a woman who had been a pillar of determination and discipline.

As their remaining forces streamed from the Entrance Hall, more gasps, cries, and screams echoed through their ranks. 

Ginny Weasley let out a particularly pained scream that rattled Maeve's bones and brought tears to her eyes. 

Everyone came to a stop amid the rubble. Across the courtyard stood Voldemort himself, flanked by his most trusted Death Eaters and, behind them, ranks of more Death Eaters, Snatchers, and a few magical creatures or darker origins. Beside the Dark Lord, stood the giant of a man, Rubeus Hagrid, the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts. In his arms was a limp Harry Potter. 

Maeve felt her eyes sting, but no tears came. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she caught sight of an unmasked Death Eater that stood behind Bellatrix. She had an elegant and beautiful face, dark hair, and wore a frown. She was looking directly at Maeve. Angelica Selwyn, her mother. 

Though she couldn't see him, Maeve knew her father was there, no doubt wearing a mask. The thought blew through her being with strange ease. She had made her choice and would suffer any consequences. It was like Anthony had said: she was fighting to live. For the first time in a long time, Maeve felt in control of her life, and she refused to relinquish that control. 

Maeve turned her gaze from her mother and stared at Potter's body. She'd talked behind his back for years; joined in with her sneering friends as they joked at his expense. But in that moment she mourned him. They hadn't been friends and never would be, but she had respected him despite herself through the years and it was the greatest shame that he'd been too damn brave. 

The crowd's cries changed from pained to blasphemies against the Dark Lord. Maeve jumped in surprise when Luna Lovegood, who stood but a foot away from her, let loose a string of creative swears regarding Voldemort. 

"SILENCE!" Screamed the Dark Lord, raising his wand and shooting a spell directly at them. There was a flash of bright light, then silence. Smiling a cold smile, he continued, "it is over! Set him down, Hagrid, set him down at my feet, where he belongs!"

The large man, body wracking with sobs, lowered Potter gently at the feet of Voldemort. 

There was silence for a long moment, before one of the Death Eaters flanking the Dark lord stepped forward slightly. Lucious Malfoy, "Draco!"

That moment, Maeve realized she stood but a few feet away from the blond wizard. She took a step back despite herself. 

Lucious Malfoy outstretched a hand to his son. Narcissa took a step forward as well, a hesitant smile on her lips, " _ Draco _ ."

Everyone within their crowd was staring at Draco. There was a pregnant pause when he did nothing, then, he started forward. 

She watched Draco hesitantly walk across the courtyard. Surprisingly, she didn't feel anger. She just felt pity. He was incapable of escaping the influence of darkness because the only thing he knew was family, and his family just so happened to be shrouded in it entirely. Maeve had Anthony, not to mention her friends in Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had never really had a true friend, in that moment she was sure of it. That was where their similarities ended, where she ended and he began. Neither was truly good or bad, there was no such thing. Every person was influenced by horn or halo in some regard. But Maeve hoped — maybe naïvely — that one day Draco could learn to allow himself to be good, because he was the only person holding himself back. 

Voldemort ignored Potter's body at his feet as he congratulated Draco. For what, Maeve wasn't entirely sure. 

The courtyard was quiet again, before Voldemort glared down at Potter, seemingly remembering the body was still there. He began pacing being the Boy Who Lived's body, "You See? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

There was a ripple of power, and a strong voice piped up, "he  _ beat _ you!" 

Ron Weasley, eyes blazing with anger, yelled defiantly over the silencing charm.

Within a moment, everyone around her was shouting and screaming. Maeve was silent for a moment, before she joined, "he beat you,  _ you filthy snake monster _ !"

It felt nothing short of cathartic to yell at Lord Voldemort. 

But the moment was short-lived. A moment later, and the Dark Lord had silenced them once more. His eyes were narrowed angrily, "he was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle ground. Killed while trying to save himself — "

The words stopped short when none other than Neville Longbottom lurched forward, breaking through their ranks. He charged directly for Voldemort, only to be shot point-blank with five differing spells. He fell to the ground, disarmed. 

Voldemort, who had won Longbottom's wand, tossed it aside and laughed, "and who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix Lestrange let out a whooping cackle, "it is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrow's so much trouble! The son of the Auror's, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember. But you are Pure-blood, aren't you, my brave boy?" The Dark Lord questioned. Neville was struggling to stand, unarmed in the gap between the opposing forces. 

"So what if I am?" Longbottom's voice didn't waver, it was strong as he glared at Voldemort.

"You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" He yelled, to an answering cheer from those around Maeve, the silencing charm falling once more. 

"Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said in a dark and quiet tone, "so be it."

Voldemort waved his wand and, seconds later, through a shattered window, something dark flew through the air. As it grew closer, Maeve recognized it as the sorting hat. It landed in Voldemort's outstretched hand and he shook it out by the pointed end. 

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield, and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

Neville went still as Voldemort hit him with a spell, then forced the hat onto his head so it went down to his ears. 

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," Voldemort said coldly, before flicking his wand, causing the hat to burst into flames. 

Maeve screamed despite herself, her hands flying to her mouth. She hadn't been the only one. Many near her were crying out. 

Then, many things happened at once. There was a thundering noise coming from the forest, and a giant came thumping around the school. He yelled something that sounded like 'hag' and charged. His cry was answered by the giants in Voldemort's rank. All hell broke loose. The giants thundered forward, hooves thundered from the forest as a herd of Centaurs burst forth, bows ready. 

But, as if an invisible force was beckoning her, Maeve turned her head just in time to see Neville brandish a sword and swing it through the air. It was as if time slowed. The world stopped as Longbottom brought the sword through Voldemort's large snake, effectively decapitating it. 

The world returned to chaos. Centaurs trampled back and forth, giants roared, thestrals danced through the skies. 

The courtyard was such a flurry of motion, they were pushed back through the Entrance Hall, into the Great Hall. Maeve dodged spells mostly, unable to truly tell who was on their side in the close quarters. Only when she arrived in the Great Hall did she truly join the fray. 

A familiar blonde ponytail caught her sight, but two figures were already firing curses at Yaxley. She spun around, looking for her friends. She caught sight of Luna, who fought back to back with Ginny Weasley against a ring of faceless Death Eaters, and made to run for them, but she found herself frozen in place. Every muscle in her body was entirely stone. 

A figure stepped into her field of vision and her heart pounded in her throat as she saw her own death flash before her eyes. The masked Death Eater walked slowly, his hand outstretched in a fist beneath leather gloves.

_ Too late did she realize _ . 

He passed his free hand over his face and his mask disappeared. She was faced with her father. 

"Maeve," his voice was careful. It was strange to hear such a calm voice in the chaos. 

"Father," was all she could manage, her words sounding choked to her own ears. 

"What are you doing here,  _ mon cœur _ ?"

"Fighting," she mentally struggled against the invisible force keeping her frozen.

"What would possess you to do such a thing?" the voice of her mother sounded behind her. Angelica slipped around her and joined her husband, staring down disapprovingly. 

When Maeve didn't respond to her mother, Ragnor frowned, "I won't fight you, Maeve."

"Then leave!" she spat, "or kill me and prove that you  _ never _ loved me more than you loved  _ the cause _ ."

To his credit, Ragnor had the decency to look hurt. He dropped his hand and concentration.

_ Fatal mistake. Not very Slytherin _ .

Maeve lifted both of her hands and mimicked the way her father had held his fist. The movement came like second nature, the words popping up in her head, " _ Petrificus Totalus _ ."

They were both frozen from the chin down, staring at her with wide eyes. 

"Last chance," despite herself, tears streamed down Maeve's face, "you leave, or you fight me."

Beside her, Anthony appeared, shielding her from a slew of stray curses. 

"I'm here," he said, loud enough for her to hear over the din. 

"Maeve," her father's eyes were pained, "let us go. Of course we love you."

Angelica Selwyn, for the first time in Maeve's life, looked guilty. 

Knowing it could be the death of her, Maeve opened her hands. Before she could say a thing, her father took her mother's hand and they disapparated out of the hall.


	41. Chapter 38 | 1998

###  Chapter 38 | 1998

Maeve only had a moment to let the relief wash over her before Anthony was screaming her name and she threw up her hands defensively. The world whirled around them. Maeve caught sight of a red-haired witch hitting Bellatrix with a spell so powerful that the dark witch burst into flakes of dark ash. She also saw Neville Longbottom cast a curse so effective it sent a Death Eater flying so far across the hall that the fall behind him broke on impact. 

The room echoed with a cold scream, followed by the bright light of the most powerful shield charm Maeve had ever seen. 

" _ HE'S ALIVE _ !" Someone screamed so loudly the entire hall went silent as all eyes turned to an alive Harry Potter facing Lord Voldemort in the centre of the room. People stumbled out of their way, waiting with bated breath to see what would happen. 

"I don't want anyone to help. It's got to be like this. It's got to be me," Harry said loudly and firmly, his words echoing in the silent hall. 

"He doesn't mean that. That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today Potter?" Voldemort taunted. 

The entire hall watched, horrified, as the two circled each other slowly. Potter slowly laid out a plot, the Dark Lord denying it at every moment. Severus Snape had been a double agent working under Dumbledore's orders. The Elder Wand existed, and Voldemort wasn't the true master of it. The mythos grew more and more complicated, full of twists and turns, only for the truth to come out. Potter was in a duel facing the Dark Lord, when he was the true master of the Elder Wand, the very wand Lord Voldemort held in his hand. 

The snakelike face of Voldemort contorted with rage and his eyes shone with pure murder. Then, at the same moment, the two pointed their wands.

" _ Expelliarmus _ !"

" _ Avada Kedavra _ !"

The sound was so catastrophic that Maeve's ears popped. The bright red and green light flowing from their wands so intense her eyes stung, but she couldn't lift her hands to cover her ears or shield her eyes. The spells collided, before the thin wooden stick - The Elder Wand - flew into the air. It spun through the air, and landed in Potter's outstretched hand. 

Voldemort lay on the floor, a crumpled husk, in the light of the rising sun. 

The silence was broken all at once with excited screams and exclamations. It was like the world had colour again; as if the dark cloud that had hung over them for so long they'd forgotten its presence had moved on. 

Maeve turned and hugged Anthony as fiercely as she could. It felt as though he was squeezing the life out of her, but she didn't care. She had a life for him to squeeze.

She hadn't died. 

The commotion lasted in the Great Hall for a very long time. Harry Potter was congratulated by all. People reached forward to clasp his hand. Grief hung over the jubilation, but it was far overshadowed by the excitement. 

Grief was like that. It disappeared in the happy moments, but would creep back when one was alone and weakened. 

Anthony grinned when Harry appeared before them, looking rather dazed.

"Right on, Potter!" Anthony clapped his friend on the back. 

Maeve offered him a smirk, but it felt strange on her mouth to even smile at Potter, "thanks, I suppose, Potter."

Anthony roared with laughter as Maeve just stared up at him with a raised eyebrow. Potter was ushered away before he could offer an answer to either of them. 

"Ooh!" Said a high voice, "hello, Maeve!"

"Luna!" Maeve turned on her heel and wrapped her arms around the blonde. 

"I suppose you didn't fall down the rabbit hole after all," Luna said when Maeve finally released her. 

"Sorry," Maeve felt her cheeks crisp with colour, "I just was so worried when you disappeared during Christmas."

"Really?" Luna looked only mildly interested, but smiled either way, "I thought you didn't like me all that much."

"I - " Maeve caught Anthony with his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, "I suppose I don't mind you all that much after all. Even if you are a  _ Ravenclaw _ ."

Luna, to her surprise, laughed, "you're a very strange witch, Maeve. You should check for Wrackspurts."

Then, she was gone.

"Anthony, what the hell is a Wrackspurt?"

"Honestly?" Anthony let his arm slump over Maeve's shoulders, "I have no  _ bleeding _ idea."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, before something occurred to Maeve.

"Are we ... all right, Anthony?" She said the words with caution. She didn't want to dredge up bad blood, but she needed to know.

"As long as you didn't spend the year kissing Malfoy's ass, we're good Maeve," he joked. When he took in her pale face he laughed, "it was a joke! Are you quite all right? Of course we're friends, you moron."

Maeve laughed nervously along with him. 

Kissing Malfoy's ass indeed. 

Speaking of, she saw no signs of the blonde wizard. She had a feeling that she probably wouldn't ever again. She wasn't all that sad at the prospect, after all the two had barely known each other. But at the same time ...

He'd been right. Something about him was eerily similar to her. She had a feeling that if they'd actually bothered to communicate aside from rude jabs and snogging in abandoned corridors, they would have found they understood each other better than either had expected. 

But that was over and done with. Maeve smiled at Anthony. She'd made a choice, she'd taken a hold of her own life, she'd become herself instead of the person everyone told her to be. 

Maeve knew it could take weeks, months, years, or decades even, but she knew one day she'd be great. Her name would be remembered with the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. 

_ The best of the best _ .


	42. Epilogue | 2020 // Extended Version Included

###  Epilogue | 2020

Diagon Alley was filled with sounds and people. The cobblestone alley was no doubt so busy due to the fast-approaching end of summer and the start of a new term at Hogwarts School. 

Thinking of Hogwarts made Maeve melancholy. So much of her time spent at Hogwarts had been more bitter than sweet, but it was the simple moments that she still looked back on fondly. She remembered moaning with Daphne about a loss in quidditch, studying in the library with Anthony, and sharing sharp jabs with Theo across their potions station. 

She was broken from her thoughts when two young wizards who appeared to be young enough to be children, but old enough to be in their teens, flew by. Maeve did a double-take when she watched their bobbing heads disappear into the crowd. It had been strange, the two were the spitting image of Malfoy and Potter of all people. At least, when they'd been in their early years of Hogwarts.

" _ Hurry up, Albus _ !" One cried to the other.

Harry hadn't changed all that much over the years, but she hadn't seen Malfoy since the end of the second wizarding war. It had struck her as strange more than once that Potter, the boy she'd been foes with for almost all of her time at Hogwarts ended up being her coworker, and eventually overseer during his stint as Head Auror. At least, as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, she saw him less. It didn't matter how much time passed, his presence made her uneasy. 

Maeve continued to stride down the packed alley, quietly smug at the reactions of those around her. It wasn't as if everyone cowered in fear at her presence, but parents tugged their children out of her way and eyed her the way the late Alastor Moody had been revered. 

Though, she suspected most were under the common impression that she was somewhat of an enigma. The government had worked tirelessly to rid the issue of blood discrimination through the years, but the wizarding world knew a Pure-blood witch with dark ties when they saw one. 

Maeve let them believe what they wanted. In fact, it had come in handy many times. She'd hunt down dark wizards for weeks, only for them to trip up when they realized who she was. More than one moronic lout had mistakenly believed her to be on their side. 

Unfortunately, her reputation had grown to such that most fleeing the law knew full well who she was and where her alliances lay. 

Ignoring the stares, Maeve turned and faced _ Obscurus Books _ . She tugged at her sleeves, before making for the door. The sun, which had been beating down on her from the clear sky, disappeared as she stepped foot into the musty bookshop. It was empty. There was no sign of any clients or the owner. 

_ Strange _ . One couldn't sell banned alchemical manuscripts and dark artifacts if one wasn't present. 

Raising an eyebrow, Maeve did a full turn. She took in the room and the maze of overstuffed bookshelves. Out loud, she tutted to herself. She strode towards a shelf that was oddly canted against the wall, her black robes billowing. The book exactly opposite her eye-line was worn so that the title was almost impossible to read ' _ Voyages With Vampires _ ' by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. It was a book that had been publicly slandered when the truth of Gilderoy Lockhart's nefariousness had been uncovered. Most shops didn't even carry his works. 

Maeve's hand, which had once only been scarred by the fire of the Unbreakable Vow, was crossed with many white scars from her time as an Auror. She reached out her hand and tipped back the book. The bookshelf swung from the wall. 

There, stood a door that muffled the faintest of voices. Maeve ran a hand through her hair — cropped as short as she could make it after she'd finished the physical training to become an Auror — and squared her shoulders. 

She brushed a hand through the air lazily and watched as the door swung open with a flourishing bang. 

The room must have been an office of sorts. Books were stacked in every available space that wasn't taken by the large desk and chairs. Behind the desk, sat the lithe man that owned the store; Abaddon Arkech, and before him stood a tall man with platinum blonde hair. 

" _ Well _ ," Maeve stepped through the door and crossed her arms, "what  _ do _ we have here?"

Then, the man turned from his position facing the desk. Familiar grey eyes. Aristocratic features. That blonde hair. Maeve felt as if a hole had been punched in her chest. 

" _ Draco _ ?"

###  Extended Version

After weeks of tracking the so called mastermind who had been spoken of in every dark corner of the Wizarding World, Maeve stared into the surprised face of Draco Malfoy. 

He was the wizard who'd been collecting dark artifacts, banned texts, and alchemical scrolls. 

He was the wizard who'd been scouring their world. 

He looked so similar to how he had in school.

Maeve took a step backwards, despite herself. She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since the Battle of Hogwarts; since he'd turned his back on her to face Potter one last time, only to scurry back into the arms of his parents. In the years after the events, Maeve looked back on him with much else but pity. It had been too easy to forget how young they'd all been. 

" _ Malfoy _ ," Maeve greeted him warily when her world righted itself. 

"Maeve," Draco breathed. He blinked rapidly, as if he were seeing a ghost, before a polite mask slid over his face, "it's been so long."

"Indeed," Maeve's entire body was on edge. She tried to recover her manners, but it was awkward shifting between tense and on guard to civil, "I - I'm sorry for your loss."

_ Merlin, Astoria _ . Maeve's throat felt tight at the memory, still fresh.

Pain lanced through his features. He turned to the side, giving the shopkeeper a hard look that sent the man scurrying out of the secret office. The shopkeeper kept his eyes pointedly downcast as he squeezed by Maeve. 

"You didn't attend the funeral," Draco almost whispered, his eyes searching her face for answers to some secret question. 

"I couldn't," Maeve's eyes fell closed as the pain echoed through her body, "I was with Daphne."

The days after Astoria's death had been the hardest of Daphne's life. Maeve could still see Anthony's terrified face when he'd appeared on her doorstep in the middle of the night, pleading for her help. She could see how Daphne's body had torn itself apart, her grief only magnifying the sickness that wracked it. She remembered the tears that had flowed down her friend's face when she'd realized the curse that had claimed her younger sister's life hadn't bothered to take her first, had in fact left her to fear the end once more. 

" _ Merlin _ ," Draco ran a hand over his grim face, "Daphne. Have you seen her lately? She's avoided me since school."

"She's ... " Maeve wasn't sure what Daphne was anymore. Her friend had become so much since their school years. So much had been taken from the once-spoiled haughty girl, "she's very different. I think Anthony and her are happy."

"What about you, Maeve?"

Maeve bared her teeth in an imitation of a smile, "I don't think that kind of happiness was made for people like us, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, and leaned his slim body against the desk. The image burned into Maeve's brain, echoing the easy grace he carried himself with when they'd been in school. The easy grace that had turned into a façade in their later years of school, "people like us."

"We never became people, did we, Draco?" Maeve mirrored his movements and leaned her shoulder against the doorway.

His responding smile was wry and just a little sad, "I don't think we did, Maeve."

There was a short silence that felt as though it stretched unendingly, before Draco spoke once more.

"I made the wrong choice, and I'm sorry," his words were hoarse with emotion, but his face blank.

She knew what he was speaking of without having to ask. His words sent a wave of exhaustion over her that she hadn't experienced in years. The last time she'd felt so tired had been the day she'd sat in the courtroom watching her parents stand before the Wizengamot to answer for their crimes. That day she'd wondered if she'd made the right choice, because if it was the right choice it shouldn't have hurt  _ so _ much. 

Maeve had been formally recognized as a war hero in the battle, which had reduced her parents' sentence greatly, but the ruling had been like hot lava dripping down her spine. 

_ Ten years in Azkaban, followed by life in exile _ . 

"Honestly, Draco," Maeve's voice was flat to her own ears, "looking back, I don't think there was much of a choice for any of us."

A small, self-deprecating smile appeared on Draco's lips, "I wish I'd done quite a few things differently when I look back."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as  _ les _ \- the muggles say."

"Would you like to grab a pint at the Leaky Cauldron?" Draco asked suddenly.

It was as if the world came back to her all at once, and she was no longer frozen in time. Maeve blinked, then levelled Draco with a sarcastic smile, "sure, Malfoy, just as soon as you accompany me to the ministry to answer some  _ questions _ we have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. Maybe I'll eventually write the sexy Regulus Black fanfic of my dreams and keep it in this universe. I hope the people who've come across this enjoyed it! I have some extras I might add at some point like the extended epilogue but we'll see if I even post them to Wattpad haha. (I feel like I've robbed you guys of some quality smut and I'm sorry but I just cannot write "Draco Malfoy That Fucks" it doesn't compute in my brain. I've tried.)


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